Another Day, Another Hope
by FrostedSkyLight
Summary: Alfred meets Arthur one day in sixth grade, but he must move back to America, his homeland. Arthur gives him his address so they can write letters, but Alfred never writes him-not one day out of the 3 years of seperation. Has something gone wrong? Does Alfred even remember Arthur? -USUK, some other pairings throughout the story
1. Chapter 1

**A****uthor's Note: Okay, so this is one of my first REAL fanfics. I've done multiple oneshots and short fics, but nothing as long as this. So please go easy on me, also, I'm not going to go into specifics for the warnings...It's rated M, so you can expect whatever you want.. Enjoy! ~Frost**

_Arthur dragged his feet in the woodchips glumly. He wished there was someone to push him on his swing, to help him out and make him feel nice. But he had no friends. He was the Brit, the one everyone hated for his seriousness, the one constantly unable to take a joke. _

_Arthur, the one that had a heavy British accent that few people liked or understood. He glanced around to see if any other kids were around and there was not indeed. That was a good thing on Arthur's part, because he burst into tears right there on the swing._

_ Not just tears of loss and sadness, but tears of loneliness and misery. He knew next year he wouldn't have to suffer this damned loneliness; they would not have recess in Middle School. He was merely a sixth grader now, though, and he would have to keep on chugging for the rest of the last quarter. _

_The scorching, almost summer sun quickly dried his tears only to be replaced by more, flowing over the previous trails._

_"Hey, dude what's wrong?" A mewl sounded from behind Arthur. He flinched in surprise, jumping a few inches off the swing and thudding back onto it. "N-nothing, I'm fine. Why would you care for a stupid Brit like me?" He spat, trying to control his tears. Once he thought he had it under control, he twisted his head to look over to whoever was speaking to him. "Right, right, I forgot you were that stupid Brit." The boy said, smirking teasingly. When he saw the crushed look on Arthur's face he added, "Kidding, kidding! Dude you really should relax!"_

_Arthur returned the boy's goofy smile with a glum scowl. "Well, sorry!" He growled, springing off the swing and thudding onto his feet. "It's not like I expected that you were different from the rest, you git." "I-I am different from the rest!" He protested. "Don't take things so seriously, geez! Loosen up a bit, dude!" The boy's big blue eyes gazed into Arthur's distant, cold green eyes. "Don't you think I've been trying?" Arthur finally choked out a minute later. _

_"But all the insults and beatings take me back to the stressed out, weak, sensitive world." He opened his mouth to say something but then the words Arthur had just said really settled in. "Beatings?" He squeaked, eyes quivering with pity. "Of course, beatings." He hissed. "I probably get about ten a day, one from every bloody bully in this school. Don't worry about it." His voice failed on him at the last sentence. He wanted someone to worry, to care. _

_"Dude, no way! That like, sucks!" "You think?" The Brit spat sarcastically. The boy shuffled his feet in the woodchips awkwardly. "Um…" "Yes?" Arthur said a bit too quickly. "Do you wanna be my friend?" He blurted finally after a hesitant moment. _

_"Really?" Just as Arthur thought that maybe someone really cared for him, he added, "I have a reputation you know; I'm friends with everyone. I do try to be popular." He winked at Arthur, who went slightly pale._

_"Kidding, I'd love to be your friend." His dorky smile widened. "O-okay...Thank you. My name is Arthur Kirkland." "My name is Alfred. Alfred Jones." He smiled._

_"Hey, sconehead!" A low snarl of a voice came from a distance, sending Arthur into a frothing spasm of dropping pathetically to the dusty, dirty woodchips and curling into a tight, scared ball. _

_Alfred watched with wide eyes as Gilbert walked into the playground clearing. He glanced at his watch. 1:45 pm. Come on clock, make these fifteen minutes go faster..! Alfred begged silently. If he stood up for the Brit, he'd lose Gilbert as a friend. But…If he ignored and let the bullying go on, then Arthur might not be his friend. _

_He decided he didn't care and burst into laughter. "Sconehead? That's the most awesome name I've ever heard, Gilbert, oh my God!" He giggled, trying to splay his hands over his mouth to stop the laughter. Gilbert grinned crookedly. _

_"So, were you like seriously talking to this eyebrow freak?" He asked in a faint German accent. "Y-yeah." Alfred said. "You know me; I have to be friends with everyone! Even the weirdoes! Like that commie Ivan." He shuddered subtly at the Russian's name, thinking of his bold intense stare. _

_Gilbert dipped his head in agreement. "Okay, you got me there. Now then, you should totally go look for Ivan. I dare you." Alfred gaped in fear. "Dude, no way!" Well, this situation had turned around to kick Alfred quickly._

_"Yes way! Or I'll totally tell everyone about that little secret of ours." The Prussian's ruby red glare intensified. Alfred squeaked, "No! Anything but that! Eep..." He ran off looking for Ivan, eyes wide. Gilbert chuckled at the power he had over everyone, and then when the American was out of sight he approached Arthur, whom was still curled up in a ball but was peeking through his arms to watch him and Alfred talk. _

_He snapped the crevice shut so it was pitch black again in half fear and half an attempt to hide his tears. "Oh, look. How submissive! You're really getting the hang of this, Brit."_

_ A foot axe-kicked Arthur's shoulder. He let out a whimper at the sudden crashing weight. "Please…" He was only replied with another blow to his gut. Gilbert continued to restlessly beat the English boy, laughing wildly as the teacher was all the way across the playground. Finally after a moment Alfred returned and his jaw practically flew to the ground. "Hey, leave Artie alone!" He roared furiously, running at the Prussian._

_Gilbert guffawed hysterically and easily head locked the American. Alfred squirmed and gasped in the grip before finally kneeing him in the stomach, causing Gilbert to release his grip with a pained, choked gasp. Alfred dashed over to Arthur. "Are you okay?" He asked softly. "I'm fine." He murmured, tears pouring down his cheeks. "You don't look okay..." He said quietly. "Well maybe I'm not!" Arthur yelled back, staggering to his feet and dashing off. "Arthur, wait!" Alfred begged._

_The teacher blew her whistle meaning they had to go inside. Alfred dashed to catch after Arthur. "Hey, listen. I have something really important to tell you." His blue gaze wasn't as happy and bright as usual. "What?" Why hadn't he said anything earlier? What could have possibly come up between when they met and now? "Well, I didn't want to tell you earlier, I kinda just planned on vanishing, like, poof and all, but your my friend now and I don't wanna be cruel to you.." He began. _

_His cheeks were flushed slightly but he continued. "I'm being shipped back to America, my homeland. My brother Matthew needs some help back there, since he's just up in South Canada, and I don't know if I'll be back or not." He sighed. "O-oh…Okay…" Arthur murmured, swallowing back tears. "I really hope you will come back." He added, gulping. "I hope so too." Alfred said. _

_For future purposes, Arthur informed Alfred of the next two schools he was applying to-Middle School and High School-and smiled faintly. "I'll remember it, I swear." Alfred said. And by the way the smile was still wiped off his face and his eyes were rock hard, Arthur believed him. _

_"Um..." He grabbed a memo pad from his back pocket and Alfred bit back laughter at the fact that Arthur kept one of those in his pocket. And a pen in handy; what a nerd. "This is my address." He murmured, handing Alfred a sheet from the pad after he had scrawled on it. "Write me a letter sometime." He smiled and Alfred nodded, walking back to the classroom beside his new friend, not aware of the anxiety hanging in the atmosphere around the two._

But Alfred never wrote Arthur. Never.

Arthur rose from his bed, his hair a tangled mess and his eyes a dull color that was not his usual. He checked the mailbox first thing; nothing. He sighed, forcing back tears, and clambered back into the house.

He went to take a shower, undressing as he entered the bathroom, then as the cool touch of the air tingled along his unconcealed body he finally bothered to look in the mirror. His eyes slipped shut with a dull ache when he saw himself, but he forced them open again.

His hair was horribly messed up, he had grown quite scrawny from near-refusal to eat, and his back slouched miserably. Finally after just staring deep into the gaze of his reflection he could take it no longer and got into the shower, twisting the knob and sending a spray of ice cold water onto his skin. He didn't flinch though, just stood there.

Why hadn't Alfred written him? What if he had gotten in a crash on his way back to America, or just died in general or...didn't want to be Arthur's friend?

He shook away the thought and continued soaking in the cool, refreshing touch of the water. Maybe today would be different, he told himself. Or maybe the same as every other day, who knows. He vigorously ran his shampoo-lathered fingers through his hair, feeling the soft touch of the suds the chemical created. He felt a tear roll down his cheek, but he would never admit it was a tear. _It's simply the water from the shower; it just got caught on my cheek, that's all._ He insisted to himself.

He finished up in the shower and quickly made his way to his room with a towel around his waist. He rubbed his eyes to relieve the stingy redness in them and then plucked an outfit from his closet, putting the clothes on with a long sigh.

He glanced at the clock, and it revealed thirty more minutes until the bus would come and pick Arthur up for his first day of High School. He could feel a distant rumble in his stomach, a quiet, frail one at that. Arthur guessed that he had been ignoring his hunger for so long that his stomach had begun to give up on him.

The hunger struck with a fierceness that nearly unbalanced him and nearly made him topple to the ground. He made his way to the kitchen and started boiling some tea and pulled out a box of leftover scones from the previous night, scarfing them down easily.

Arthur nearly jumped when the tea kettle began to whistle loudly, then he calmed down when he saw the pot. What was up with his paranoia lately? He had been wincing at sounds he'd grown up with. He exhaled and poured his tea into a cup with slightly shaking hands before he began sipping at it silently. The steam from the tea plastered on his face, making him close his eyes with discomfort. He ignored how the hot liquid singed his tongue. He was thirsty, he didn't care. Of course, he'd probably care later when his tongue felt scaled and wounded, but at the moment he didn't.

When the cup was deprived of tea, Arthur neatly placed it into the sink and went back to his room. He got his supplies ready and looked at the time. He had around ten minutes, so he grabbed his stuff and sped out the door. He wasn't sure whether he left so he would be there if the bus came early, or to avoid further pain and memories of being in his home. It didn't matter, all that mattered was he wouldn't have time to stop and think about Alfred. In a matter of minutes Arthur was at the bus stop. He looked around and there were no other kids out yet, but he knew that soon they would emerge.

He popped his thumbs in his pockets and rapped his finger along the soft-yet-rough fabric of the jeans.

He pursed his lips when he saw Francis, a kid who lived a block away from Arthur and was a Junior in High School, grin at Arthur from afar. It wasn't a, "Hey, sup?" smile, it was an, "I'm coming to rape you," smile.

Being his apprehensive self, Arthur backed up a bit when the French boy picked up the pace. "If you come any closer to me I swear I'll-" He broke off with a loud huff of surprise as Francis squeezed Arthur in a hug. "You frog, let me go!" He flailed hopelessly.

Maybe that smile had confirmed the future or something.

Finally Arthur was released. "Calm down, calm down," Francis uttered, adding in a few French words that Arthur couldn't comprehend. "How can I calm down, dammit?" He shot back hotly as he tried to calm his racing heart. "Listen, you, if you could just leave me alone I'm kinda busy," Arthur snapped. He really wasn't busy, but he just wanted the idiot to go away. "Nonsense, even if you were busy I could make you busier." Francis said, wiggling his eyebrows seductively. "You sick git, leave me alone!" He splayed his hand on the French's face when he tried to kiss Arthur, throwing his head away from himself.

"I have no intention of kissing you." "Aw, why not?" He batted his eyes. Arthur scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Seriously, stop trying to molest me." He said in his thick British accent. "Molest? Nonsense. I would do so if given the chance, but right now I am not." The French boy's words sent a shiver down Arthur's back. For once in his life he thought he had found someone who would get teased more often than him.

Thankfully, or not thankfully, it was more neutral than anything else, the bus screeched as it halted in front of the two. Great, so Arthur would be alone with that frog every morning? He prayed silently that there were more kids at his stop, and that they had simply been absent today, or missed the bus. But he knew that wasn't the case as he climbed onto the bus, blocking out Francis' little "onhonhon"s as he boarded after Arthur.

Arthur groaned when the frog sat next to him, eyes shining. They were in the back of the bus, which didn't help at all. "You never give up, do you?" He spat. "I have no idea what you are talking about. Now then…" His gaze travelled to a place that made Arthur blush madly. "If we get in a certain angle, the bus driver certainly will not see what I do to you…" Arthur's blush darkened. "You're sick!"

"No, I am simply dazed by your beautiful self." He replied, smiling sweetly. "Shut up, you bloody wanker." He responded, turning his head and trying to make his cheeks cool off. "No, I intend to show you my love." More words that made Arthur stop and shudder. That was just bloody great.

"Dammit no!" "No one else is on the bus..." "…Yet!" Arthur retorted. "Oui, yet. That will give us enough time until the next stop is in sight." He winked. "Oh my God…" The Brit exhaled. "I'm not hearing a no." "NO." "You are absolutely no fun." Arthur snorted. "You just have very revolting interests, I'm afraid." He replied nonchalantly.

"Or you have bland interests." Francis challenged, grinning ear to ear. "Screw you," He spluttered. "I would certainly enjoy said screwing." Arthur slammed his fist onto his knee. Why did that blasted French boy have to twist every word he said and have a comeback for everything? "You can't outsmart me." Francis said, practically reading Arthur's mind, watching him hit himself once on the knee.

"I've noticed," he said, obviously giving in. "Fine, whatever, do what you want."

Francis' grin spread, if that was even possible, and he dove for the Englishman's fly. Arthur blushed bright red and turned his head away. He bit his lip and wished the next bus stop far away; knowing that even though Francis had partly indicated that he would stop when more kids came on, Arthur knew in the end that he wouldn't stop.

He gasped when he felt a wet, cold tongue caress his member. He glanced in the bus driver's direction, but he was focused on the road and didn't see what was going on in the back of the bus. Then, his gaze flickered to out the window, groaning at both the discomfort of the twisting of his head so far, and what the French Junior was doing to him. Arthur let himself dissolve into another world for a mere few minutes, feeling himself slowly inch closer to orgasm. After those few minutes he was snapped to reality by a rough yell, "Hey!"

Arthur's heart sped up, but he tried to calm himself in vain. _Maybe the bus driver wasn't talking to us_, he tried, but he knew no one else was on the bus. _Shit_. Just in case the two hadn't figured it out yet, he yelled again, "you two in the back!" Arthur gulped in attempt to rid of the lump in his throat but Francis merely looked up. "You had better stop, or I'll suspend you." He warned casually.

The blush returned to Arthur's face. "S-sorry sir…It wasn't my fault, Fra-""I don't want to hear your excuses!" Francis frowned, knowing that he would be taking things too far if he continued, and hurriedly tucked Arthur's member back into his jeans, zipping them up. "We shall do this some other time, oui?" He purred to the Brit. Arthur gawked at him in disgust. "Bloody hell no!" "We shall see about that." Francis winked and leaned against Arthur's shoulder.

Arthur shoved him off, sending him flying into the isle. "Stupid frog." He muttered as the bus halted at the next stop after his own. He was half curious, half anxious to see what kind of students got on board. He just watched with wide green eyes as people he didn't even know made their way into random seats and the bus drove off.

Prattle rippled among the students, mainly freshman from Arthur's perspective, except for with himself. He remained quite silent, thinking about what would happen today. Maybe Alfred would finally be back…He pushed the thought away, not wanting to stir his hopes like he did every day, every week, every month, every year.

The bus finally-after about five or ten minutes, which was long enough for Arthur-stopped at the school, making Arthur stop and stare from his window. The school was huge. He gulped and stood up from his seat, listening to the annoying commotion as everyone tried to get off at once. _Well, shit, we need a more organized system,_ Arthur thought to himself as he finally was able to get out the door.

He stumbled as a foot tripped him and turned to glare at the person who had done it.

A tall man who was familiar in the back of his mind grinned innocently at Arthur. "Fuck you." He responded swiftly, turning to walk away. He didn't know why he said it. It had just come from his mouth.

The man's hand took Arthur's shoulder and yanked him back, receiving a startled yelp from Arthur. "You should not talk to me like that." He said in a faint accent that Arthur could not make out. "Oh, and why the bloody hell not?" He asked, his eyes shining challengingly. "Because, Arthur."

Arthur tensed. _How…,_ he thought, _how does he know my name? _"Do you not remember me? Did I not do a good enough job making you remember me?"

Then it all came back to Arthur. "Ivan..!?" "Good boy," the silver-ish-blond patted Arthur's head and ruffled his hair a bit, with his gloved hand, as if it wasn't ruffled enough.

Arthur snorted and tore himself free from the now-familiar Russian boy and paced to the school, swinging open the door and disappearing inside the mass of the crowd to hide himself if Ivan had followed him.

Arthur sped through the halls, awkwardly squeezing past the people beside him. Once the crowd cleared into a more organized, filed system, Arthur took his chance to stop being so tense and looked at his feet with a quavering sigh. That was a bad idea; he smacked heads with one of the other freshmen.

Arthur fell to the ground with a small "humph" of surprise. "Oh, dude sorry!" A loud voice called down to him. "This is one hell of a crowd; it's hard not to bump into people..." The boy murmured.

"It's fine, just try to watch where you going next t-…" Arthur gawked at the person looming over him. He knew that face! That goofy smile, those big blue eyes…Arthur's green eyes sparkled.

"Yeah, yeah whatever. Anyways, I'm Alfred."

He grinned, offering his hand to help Arthur up.

Alfred! Of course! Arthur opened his mouth and nearly said, "I know," but decided to play along and see if the American eventually remembered him.

"I'm Arthur." He said.

"Cool. Maybe we can be friends..?"

Arthur's eyes flashed with trauma.

He averted Alfred's gaze, feeling anxiety and rejection churn in his stomach. So Alfred really didn't remember him?

"No, thank you." He said stubbornly, turning heel and speeding off so the American wouldn't see the tears that spilled from his eyes and onto his cheeks.

Alfred blinked at the Englishman in confusion and hurt. What had he done? Had he said something and triggered some sort of breakdown for Arthur?

He didn't know, and he probably wouldn't ever really see the Brit again. But he would search for him.

Because although they had never met, something about Arthur stood out to him. Something familiar…

**Author's Note: Cause I really like to write these for some reason o3o Anyways, next chapter will be coming shortly, cause I'm already halfway done. I get bored easily on the weekend, okay? xD Anyways, see ya! *poofs* ~Frost**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Yay, here it is! Aha, sorry if it seems rushed, I didn't have many good ideas o3o No one hate me for this chapter c: Also, sorry it's so short. Lost inspiration and felt that was a good place to cut off. ~Frost**

Arthur was walking around his neighborhood quietly, his gaze sweeping his surroundings as the cool morning air whipped and lashed violently. Actually, he was quite far from his own neighborhood; a few blocks away to be precise. The trees swayed in the force of the wind, leaves being torn from their spots on the trees and floating to the ground with a crisp crunching sound.

Waves were visible in the lush, tall grass and the sky was skirted with ominous clouds. As if waiting for Arthur to notice, raindrops began to pitter from those clouds, pricking at Arthur's skin and clothes. He didn't care.

"Why can't Alfred just bloody…_remember _who I am?!" He practically yelled, to no one in particular, forehead creasing with dissent toward the world. "I spent _years_ waiting for him, and the least he could do is remember me!" He spat, feeling his chest tighten with frustration.

Suddenly he heard a snap of a stick behind him and he whirled around to see the sandy-blond boy, his blue eyes deep with thought. "I-Ah-Alfred!" Arthur stammered, already flushed from his outrage and flushing slightly more in embarrassment.

"Artie…" Alfred started, his tone soft and reassuring and the rain started to flatten down his hair and run down his skin, making Arthur's breath come a bit faster. "I remember you now. I was a dumbass for not recognizing you before." He murmured, his gaze on Arthur's lips, unable to meet his eyes. "I'm sorry."

Arthur thought that was all there was to the apology, and didn't reply either way, but then Alfred practically tackled him, wrapping his arms around Arthur's waist in an embrace, causing Arthur to totter a bit before gaining steady footing.

He felt his heart racing and his eyes were wide as Alfred pressed his lips to Arthur's, their breath mingling as the rain came down faster, pattering against the two.

"Oh, Artie…" Alfred groaned quietly as he pulled back to look at Arthur. "I've missed you so much…" Arthur nodded briefly, his eyes shining. "I-I sort of…fell into depression without you," he confessed, a brief shadow flickering on his face as he admitted to it. "Well I'm here now." Alfred whispered, and their lips met again.

Arthur could feel himself becoming more and more aroused as the kiss grew deeper, and Alfred could feel it as the Englishman's member grew stiff against him. He let out a tiny moan against Alfred's lips he could feel one of his hands trail away from Arthur's waist and moved to his jeans, snapping the button off and undoing the fly.

"Ah!" Arthur jolted awake, his breath hitched as he flew into a sitting position, his head whirling as he did so. He let out a tiny, low-pitched whine both when he realized he'd been dreaming and when he felt the slight wetness and stickiness in his shorts.

He exhaled slowly and pushed the covers aside, frazzled, lifting off the bed and onto the carpet of his room. He went straight to the bathroom and peeled off his clothes to take a shower, many thoughts running through his mind as he hauled himself into the shower and yanked up on the faucet so the water would run to the shower head instead of the faucet.

Then he turned only the cold water on and let out a miniature yelp when it sprayed him, awakening him instantly as he fought to adjust the temperature of the water. Once content with the temperature he let the water soak him, not doing anything else for the time being.

Once he had finished, about ten minutes later, he clambered out of the shower after twisting the water off and wrapped a towel around his waist.

He used his hand to clear the steam on the mirror, wiping a big enough spot for his liking before he hastily ran a comb through his hair a few times and then opened up the bathroom door, striding back to his room. Something flashed in the back of his mind when he did so but he forced it out of his mind with a tiny grunt, pushing his door open and closing it behind him.

He let the towel fall to the ground after he wiped himself dry and found an outfit quickly, putting the clothing articles on with ease before he picked up the towel from the ground, ruffled his dripping hair with it, and then plopped it into the hamper. He glanced at the clock-6:55 AM. _Shit!_

He hurried to the kitchen and fixed himself breakfast-cereal due to lost time-and gulped the whole bowl down in a matter of minutes then forced his shoes onto his feet, tying them hurriedly.

He threw on his backpack and was out the door at exactly seven o'clock.

_Well, _he thought to himself as he paused on the porch, _today should be interesting._

Alfred spotted a familiar head in the sea of students bursting for the door of the school-ruffled, messy blond hair. "Artie!" Alfred barked desperately, shoving past people carelessly. Arthur froze, tensing at the nickname. It was what Alfred had called him in sixth grade… "Y-yes?" He stuttered, turning to face the American with a pale face and wide green eyes.

"Yo dude! I've been looking for you all day!" He said melodramatically, his voice loud enough to hover over the other students' restless chatter. He seemed oblivious to Arthur's stun. "You have?" Arthur choked, feet still planted to the ground. "Yeah!" He frowned in confusion, "What's wrong?"

"Why were you looking for me?" Arthur pressed, his tone pleading. This was his last shrivel of hope. He prayed stronger than ever that Alfred really did remember him. "Cause I said I wanted to be your friend the other day and I meant it."

Arthur could nearly feel his heart shatter into tiny incorrigible pieces. "Oh. Well I'll be off then," he said hastily, turning to make a beeline for the door as tears threateningly formed at the corner of his eyes.

He felt a hand at his shoulder before he could escape. "Alfred, _stop_, I'm going to miss my bus." He said bitterly with circumspect. "I can give you a ride home, calm down!" Alfred replied in a sharp tone, his stare intense as Arthur finally gave in and turned around, revealing the tears streaming down his cheeks. "Arthur. What the hell is _wrong_?" Alfred demanded, his eyes hurt that Arthur wasn't telling him something.

"What makes you think something's wrong?" Arthur responded dumbly, his voice cracking.

"I'm not kidding, tell me." Alfred said gravely, gaze burning into Arthur's. Arthur averted the bold stare and sighed.

"Alfred," Arthur started, shifting his weight on his feet slightly. Alfred looked over at Arthur with a slow but impatient nod.

Arthur took a breath to steady himself as his head began to spin with anxiety. "Don't you remember me?" He finally whispered hoarsely. Alfred stared at Arthur, surprised. "Hm?" He grunted questioningly, his eyebrows furrowing with confusion as he tried to think.

"I-I honestly don't know what you're talking about, sorry bro." He uttered, his eyes shimmering with emphasis towards the apology.

But Arthur wasn't done yet.

"We met in sixth grade…" He murmured quietly, and Alfred had to lean in slightly in order to hear him. "I was alone and you came over. We were friends, and then you said you had to move to America." He mumbled, looking hopefully at Alfred. His expression hadn't changed, in fact it looked a tad bit concerned.

"Um, no I don't remember that. I'm pretty sure I've always lived in America and I just moved here a month ago or so." He said quietly. "W-what?" Arthur spluttered, unable to hide his surprise and disappointment.

"You said you're pretty sure?" He added in a much different tone. "Y-yes…" Alfred seemed uncomfortable, rubbing the back of his neck. "Is something wrong?" He asked, his voice growing more concerned by the second. "Did something happen in the past few years?" He added in a shrill, high-pitched keen.

Alfred stumbled back a bit at being interrogated so thoroughly. "Okay, fine I'll tell you." He said, holding up his hands swiftly in resignation before his arms entwined behind his back nervously. Arthur waited patiently, his breath shallow and rough.

"I don't know the whole story, just what my brother told me…" He began, once again shifting uneasily. Arthur continued to wait, his breath speeding up slightly with impatience.

"I-it was when I was in seventh grade…I-I…" He seemed to be breaking down faster and faster by the minute, and Arthur couldn't understand why. "I dragged Matthew to a party because I thought he 'needed to live for once' and it was an adult party, too…" An abashed and rueful look crossed his face.

"A-and…This boy named Gilbert, I went to school with him according to Matthew, got drunk off his ass even though he was under aged; they had alcohol at the party…and things got out of control…He ended up breaking the glass bottle on my head and I passed out. Got a bad concussion."

Arthur's jaw was slightly agape and he winced subtly. Gilbert? _Gilbert _had done this? "I know that bloody git." He snarled. "Y-you do?" "Well, did I not tell you we went to school together?" He snorted short-temperedly. "Oh. Yeah, true. So, I'll be off."

He turned and went out the door. "Alfred, wait!" Arthur yelled. No reply. _He said he'd give me a bloody ride home damn it! _Arthur thought furiously, balling his hands into fists.

Then, Alfred poked his head back into the doorway after opening the door and propping it open. "Just kidding!" He squawked, but by the guilty, slightly flushed look on his face Arthur could tell that he truly had almost forgotten his word. He forced a tiny laugh and quickly ran a hand through his hair before hobbling after the American.

Alfred halted in front of a nice, navy blue Camaro that was parked in the lot. Arthur gawked at the fancy car and then let out a whistle, being impressed. "Isn't she a beauty? She's not mine though, she's Matthew's." Alfred said, nodding slowly as he opened the back door for Arthur.

"Hey, Mattie, we gotta take a friend home, kay?" He called to his older brother in the front seat as Arthur anxiously climbed into the car. "S-sure thing." He said quietly. Arthur couldn't fathom why he was so quiet, especially when compared to his loud, little brother. He closed the back door with a loud thud and Alfred slowly started to head to the other side of the car.

Matthew glanced up at the rear view mirror to look at Arthur. "Hi there, I'm Alfred's brother." He murmured. He looked almost identical to Alfred besides his eye color and supposedly a few other minor differences.

"Pleasure to meet you, I'm Arthur." He responded, meeting Matthew's amethyst gaze in the rear view mirror.

"Wait a second," Matthew pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "Alfred's friend from sixth grade?" He seemed hopeful. "Yes. I-I heard about his incident from seventh grade…" Arthur said.

Matthew visibly winced at the mention of the forbidding event. "Mhm, I'm sorry about that, I really wish he remembered you. He talked about you nonstop before then." Arthur blushed slightly. "He did?" He asked lowly.

Seeing as Alfred hadn't gotten into the car yet, Matthew swung his head around to give Arthur a bewildered look. "Wait a second! You like Alfred!" He yelled, which was just above a loud whisper.

Alfred nearly seemed to hear his name as he got into the car right after his brother said it, and Arthur fretted that Alfred had heard Matthew. _But, _he reasoned with himself, _Matthew barely spoke above a whisper. Surely not? _

Arthur avoided answering the question he had been asked since Alfred was in the car now and merely sighed. Matthew had a look to his eye that showed the conversation would be adjourned and picked up later.

"So, where do-ah, never mind, say, Arthur…" The mashed up sentence made Arthur a bit confused, but he looked at Alfred in expectance. "..Would you care to come over to my house?" He asked, blue eyes with an affectionate shine. Arthur pretended not to see the look in his eye and nodded. "That'd be lovely." Alfred's face lit up at the reply.

Arthur was a bit shocked when a minute later they turned into the driveway of Alfred's house. "Alfred, you go on in, I gotta ask Arthur a question." Matthew said softly, nodding his head toward the door to the house. "I'll be right in."

"Kay," Alfred said, oblivious to the fact they'd be talking about him as he hopped out of the car and walked into the house.

Matthew turned in his seat to look at Arthur. "So do you?" He asked, lilac eyes narrowed. "I-I don't know…I think so…" "You _think _so?" Matthew seemed quite fiercer than usual. "I don't know…I mean I felt so broken without him all those years and when I first met him I felt…alive…So yes, I suppose…" Arthur looked away, embarrassed.

"Okay. I knew you'd come to your senses." "What's that supposed to mean?" Arthur asked bitterly, but Matthew didn't respond, just smiled softly to himself and motioned for Arthur to get out of the car. He did as he was beckoned to and went inside the house, throwing his backpack carelessly on the ground.

His stomach did a summersault when he peered around the corner curiously and saw Alfred switching shirts, the light shining on his sweat-glistened skin as he pulled the shirt over his head and placed it on his bed. Arthur yanked his head backward, nearly toppling over at the sudden jerk of movement.

But he found himself wandering back to the doorway of the room, smack in the middle in plain sight, staring at Alfred. Seeing Arthur approach, Alfred looked over at him. _At least he saw me __**coming**__, if he hadn't he'd probably call me a stalker or something… _Arthur thought, offering a feeble smile. Alfred returned his smile with a wide grin as he threw a new shirt on, acting nonchalant as if nothing had happened.

Well, that's how it ought to have been. Nothing _had _happened, nothing big, right? Arthur was just overlooking the event and making a big deal of it. "Hey, sorry about that. What'd Mattie have to talk to you about?" Alfred asked nosily. "Ah, nothing important," Arthur lied, rubbing the back of his neck which was hot with embarrassment still. "Oh, cool." A comfortable silence clouded around the two, and they were thinking the same thing: _What do we do now? _

Both of them heard the door slam shut as Matthew walked inside. "Hey, Arthur and Alfred?" He called. "Yeah? What's up?" Alfred asked as he exited the room with Arthur trailing closely behind.

"I'm going to the store, do you guys want anything?" He gave Arthur a smug look, and Arthur blushed a bit, knowing very well that the Canadian didn't need to go to the store. Well, maybe he did, but he had purposely chosen now to go. To leave him and Alfred alone…he shook his head, both in answer to Matthew's question and to clear his thoughts.

"You should get some ice cream!" Alfred squealed suddenly, making Arthur jump a bit. Matthew sighed, slightly aggravated. "We have like fifteen goddamn tubs in the freezer! Eat those if you want ice cream so damn bad!"

Arthur's eyes widened at Matthew's sudden small outburst. Matthew looked at Arthur with an apologetic look in his eye. "Okay, geez…" Alfred uttered. "Have fun you two," Matthew said, a little too evidently, with a grin as he shut the door behind him, shutting off any responses from Arthur or Alfred.

"W-what was he talking about?" Alfred stammered, although he was pretty sure he knew. "I don't know." Arthur lied as blankly as he could. The two were silent as their eyes locked and then Arthur pulled his gaze away.

"Hey, Arthur, do you want to stay the night since it's Friday?" Arthur tensed, his eyes widening slightly. He delved for an excuse not to as the back of his neck burned up, but could find none. "S-sure…" He finally stuttered, giving in.

Alfred looked at him, blinking. "Okay, well, you can use my bed and I'll sleep on the couch," he said. Arthur felt his cheeks flush now and he turned his head away. "That won't be necessary…" He murmured, not looking back at Alfred.

"Oh, well okay. If you're sure," he added, looking a bit unsure and his face slightly pale. Both of them thought the same thing: _I hope I don't do anything stupid. _

**Author's Note(Agaaainnn): Ahh. Silly Arthur, having dreams about Alfred. Tsk tsk... **

**What do we do when something bad's supposed to happen?**

**Blame Prussia. *shot* **

**Next chapter will be the next morning, so just don't assume what I know you'll assume happens that night :'D It hasn't come to that point in the story yet akldjf but sooonnn. I promise. Anyways, I really don't know when the next chapter will come, I have a really busy week this week what with a choir concert and jazz band and a friend's birthday party that weekend...Anyways, see ya! ~Frost**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Askldj so sorry about the wait and stuff, I've had a horrible writer's block.*Cough* And I've been playing Pokemon Black 2 *cough* I will hopefully get another chapter in soon, hopefully being the keyword because I have like no ideas at the time. Yay for me I got up early to write this...and for school but y'know same thing *shot***

Arthur nuzzled the pillow beneath him in an attempt to block out the light filtering through Alfred's wide open window in vain. After a few more tries, he gave up and lifted his head from the pillow to look at Alfred, who was a foot or so away from him on the bed. He was still fast asleep, breathing gently. _Well, I can't get up until he does… _Arthur thought, burying his face back into the pillow with a tiny huff.

He wasn't sure how long he lay there, attempting to drift back into unconsciousness, but eventually he felt Alfred begin to stir. He raised his head warily to look at Alfred as his big blue eyes slid open. "Morning," Arthur cooed. He mentally slapped himself for the affection in his tone. "Hey," Alfred replied gruffly as he somewhat struggled to sit up in the bed.

"Did you sleep well?" Arthur questioned nonchalantly, his voice now biting. "I-Yes," Alfred seemed reluctant and urgent as he replied, breaking off from whatever he was going to say, as if he had almost said the wrong thing. Which he probably had, Arthur suspected. "That's good."

Alfred blinked at Arthur. "Did you?"

Arthur didn't respond immediately, basking in his thoughts. _Should I tell him the truth? Or simply deceive him into thinking so? _He knew he was overthinking it and decided to go with his gut instinct; to tell the truth. "I…to be honest, not really." He didn't meet Alfred's gaze.

"Oh? Did you have a bad dream or something?" Arthur felt his stomach twist a little bit. "No…not exactly…" "What do you mean not exactly? That's not an answer, dude."

"Shut up! Can't you realize you have no place to ask me these questions anyways?" Alfred flinched. "Sorry…I just don't understand why you didn't sleep well if you didn't have a bad dream." "Go away." Arthur huffed with slight exasperation.

"No!" Alfred barked, and even though his tone was slightly playful he was dead serious. He didn't want to leave Arthur, plus this was _his _house.

"Listen, I should get going." Arthur finally said, minutes later, heaving a sigh. His tone was slightly sour but was shaking subtly for no apparent reason. "Huh? Why?" Alfred's eyes seemed to break. "I just have to." He said simply, shrugging as he lifted himself off the bed. Alfred clutched Arthur's arm, and he stiffened massively in surprise, halting.

"Please don't leave…" He begged quietly. Arthur sighed, confused from Alfred's pathetic behavior. "I have to. Anyways, why don't you like come over to my house tonight or something?" Alfred beamed. "Okay! I'll need your address though…" "Uh, okay, got a pen and paper or something?"

Alfred groaned and lifted himself from the bed, opening a drawer on the nightstand beside the bed. He handed Arthur a notepad and a pen. "Here. Might as well put your phone number on here, too, so we can contact each other and stuff," Alfred said with a tiny shrug.

Arthur dipped his head in agreement and took said supplies provided, scrawling out first his address and then his phone number before handing the notepad and pen back to Alfred. "Anyways, should I have Matthew take me home or something?"

"Sure, hang on." Alfred stood up, pushing the blankets aside, and exited the room. Arthur could hear a conversation in the other room-but couldn't quite catch what was said-before both Matthew and Alfred appeared in the doorway, Matthew obscured behind Alfred slightly.

"Okay, he'll take you home." Alfred said, pausing slightly. "I'll come to your house at like seven okay?" Arthur didn't reply for a moment. "Okay," he finally said, turning to gather his belongings. "Ah…lemme help you Arthur," Alfred said, lurching forward to help Arthur with his things.

Arthur opened his mouth to snap indignantly at Alfred but thought better of it. "Thanks." He uttered, swinging his backpack, which was handed to him by Alfred, over his shoulder. "You got everything?" Alfred asked uncertainly. "Yes, I do," Arthur said, eyes flashing.

"But on that note, I guess I'll see you at 'like seven,'" Arthur said. Alfred smiled a bit. "Yes you will." He stepped out of the way so Arthur could join Matthew and watched as the two left with a thoughtful cerulean gaze.

Arthur tossed his backpack into the empty seat beside him before shutting the car door and clicking the seatbelt into place. Matthew took his seat in the driver's seat not long after, turning the keys to start the car.

"So, what'd you guys do while I was gone last night?" Matthew asked, raising an eyebrow. Arthur's eyes widened tremendously. "What the bloody hell's that supposed to mean?" He asked loudly, a bit angrily.

Matthew held up his hands-they hadn't pulled out of the driveway yet nor started driving-in defense. "I thought you liked Alfred, weren't you gonna do anything about it?" Silence spilled into the gap Matthew had made and Arthur's expression hardened, followed by a weary sigh.

"I know…It's just…" "It's just what?" Matthew asked. "If you're scared he doesn't like you, he does! I told you that before, goddammit!" Arthur winced. "What the hell are you waiting for, Arthur? You both like each other, so don't…just…agh!" He brought one hand to his forehead and rubbed it, a frustrated scowl plastered on his face.

Arthur didn't reply, sinking into his thoughts. The rest of the drive was in silence, since Arthur had already told Matthew his address and he seemed to know where to go. When they pulled into Arthur's driveway, Arthur wordlessly grabbed his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder, and exited the vehicle.

Matthew gave him a tiny wave of farewell but Arthur didn't acknowledge it as he swung open the front door to his house and disappeared inside the building, taking no notice as Matthew backed out of the driveway and drove off. He went straight to his room, throwing his bag on the floor and flopping onto his bed.

It was only somewhere around noon; he didn't need to worry about Alfred right now. He closed his eyes, unsure why he felt so strongly compelled to sleep, and felt everything start to go black around him as he was swallowed up by unconsciousness.

Arthur was lying in bed, half-asleep, when a loud, obnoxious ringing startled him, fully awakening him. He sat up quickly, feeling a tiny rush in his head as he fumbled for the phone, swiftly picking it up and putting it to his ear even though he didn't recognize the number.

"'Ello?" He greeted, his British accent slightly richer since he had just awoken. "A-Arthur?" "Alfred?" "Y-yeah," the voice was quivering and slightly shrill. There was a slight pause on both lines. "Why are you calling me?" He glanced at the clock.

"You're not coming for another hour…" He added, almost as if to assure himself that Alfred was coming at all. "I-It's Matthew," Alfred stammered feebly. "What about Matthew?" Arthur pressed, a bit shocked that the American hadn't called his brother "Matt" or "Mattie."

"He…" Another pause. "He's…" Arthur felt each pause become more excruciating. "He's been injured, he might not live through it either," Alfred finally cried out, followed closely by a sniff. Arthur tensed and was speechless for a moment. Then he found his voice, "I'm so sorry Alfred, what happened? If you're up to talking about it, I mean."

"H-he was going somewhere, I don't know where, and apparently some idiot crashed into him…The ambulances came but he was passed out and wouldn't wake up. The doctors think he had a coma from the shock or something because there were no fatal wounds on him and he still had a somewhat steady heartbeat. There were a few scratches and such, but that was only from the glass.

"Plus, people seldom die from wounds in crashes, I don't think anyways. Mainly comas because they get so stunned, but the majority of them don't wake up," Alfred said grimly. Arthur remained quiet.

"Which sounds like Mattie to me," Alfred continued dryly, a sad attempt to make a joke and put on a happy façade. Arthur didn't laugh though.

"That's horrible," he said quietly in a hoarse whisper. "Do you still want to come over here?" "No," Alfred said, a bit harshly, making Arthur's temper slightly flare threateningly. "I want you to come over here," he continued softly. "O-of course. I'll be right over." He knew he'd have to walk, but fortunately-or unfortunately-Alfred's house was only a matter of blocks away from his own. He could arrive within an hour or so. "Okay…thank you…"

Alfred hung up and Arthur pocketed his phone before he put on his shoes and quickly groomed himself up to look presentable and peeked out the window. Seeing as it wasn't raining, he opened the door and slipped outside, pulling the door shut behind him with a loud thud.

He hobbled down the porch steps and walked in the direction of Alfred's house, vaguely remembering the way from when Matthew had taken him home earlier that day.

Arthur was growing worn out a few blocks later, but the streets were becoming more and more familiar to him. He could see Alfred's street looming ahead, his house settled on the corner of the street. He sped up a bit, no matter how much his feet screamed with dissent, and climbed up the slightly steep driveway.

He didn't feel the need to knock, so he simply twisted the knob and pushed the unlocked door open. "Alfred?" He called into the dark house, hearing it bounce of the walls in an echo eerily. He was answered by choked sobs coming from Alfred's room, pity swelling in his heart as he walked through the hall to the room.

"Alfred?" He repeated softly at the doorway of Alfred's room. The room was dark and Arthur could see a small lump on the bed that was Alfred, the sheets pulled over his head. Alfred pushed away the sheets and glanced at Arthur, a helpless look on his face as Arthur moved closer, sitting at the edge of his bed.

"I'm really sorry, love…" Arthur stiffened, not continuing; he was going to add that Matthew might pull through this. Had he just called Alfred love? Alfred noticed it too, his face changing from misery to surprise and a hint of hope. "I...!" Arthur delved for something to say but could find nothing. Alfred raised an eyebrow slightly. "Love?" He asked, smiling teasingly. Arthur looked away, blushing slightly. Then he remembered what Matthew had said to him that day.

_"If you're scared he doesn't like you, he does! I told you that before, goddammit! What the hell are you waiting for, Arthur? You both like each other, so don't…just…agh!"_

"Alfred…" Arthur began perplexedly. Alfred stared at him expectantly and curiously, his blue eyes wide but also red and puffy. "There's something I haven't told you." "Yes?" Alfred asked, his tone changing slightly. "I…" Arthur paused, breath shaking vigorously. "I love you." He finally said.

"Arthur…I love you too." Even though Matthew had already told him this, he was still surprised to hear the words. He looked at Alfred. "Really?" He asked gently. "Y-yes…" The tears had dried on his cheeks, cut short. Alfred's lips curled at the corners into a semblance of a smile.

Arthur inched closer, his eyes shimmering, and Alfred did the same, closing the distance between them as their lips met. Arthur's eyes slid close as did Alfred's as they worked their lips against each other, a sudden hunger flaring in the two of them. Alfred gripped Arthur's shoulders and flipped him over so he was on top of Arthur, eliciting a surprised yelp from Arthur as he was pinned down.

Alfred's hands moved to undo the buttons of Arthur's shirt, but soon after he began to tear at one button a ringing interrupted the two, making Alfred jump off of Arthur onto the other side of the bed in surprise. He glanced at his phone, still slightly shock-stricken, and then picked it up. "Hello?" He said, leaning back against the headboard of the bed next to Arthur, who still looked quite stunned as well.

Arthur could hear faint, fuzzy murmurs on the other line. "R-really? Thank you so much!" Arthur looked up curiously. "That's great news, dude, thanks." He said, a bit more seriously and nodded. "Okay, bye." He hung up, beaming.

"Well?" Arthur prompted. "Matthew woke up." He murmured quietly. Arthur broke into a smile. "That's great!" He said softly, his eyes heavy-lidded. "He should be back in like an hour since he has no deep wounds," he added, as if it would change Arthur's mind about resuming what they had been doing.

If Alfred had thought it would, he was wrong. _Either way, it's not like we'll go at it for a whole hour, _Arthur thought, mentally snorting at the thought. "Well, all right," Arthur said simply, tilting his head up to close the distance between them. Alfred seemed slightly surprised at first but after a split second he began to kiss back feebly.

In a matter of a few, terse minutes, both of them had been deprived of their clothes. Alfred wasted no time in pinning Arthur down, but then something hit him; he had no lubricant. _Well, how the fuck was I supposed to know I was gonna have sex with a guy in my lifetime? Never mind as a freshman… _He thought, letting out a tiny huff as he brought three fingers to his lips and began to suck on them.

After a painstaking minute of thoroughly wetting them, Alfred removed the fingers from his mouth and popped one into Arthur's entrance, causing him to cry out. He pumped the finger back and forth, gradually adding all three fingers, his member growing more and more taut at each mewl and moan Arthur emitted.

It didn't take long before Alfred was satisfied with the amount of stretching he'd done, removing his fingers and straddling Arthur cautiously. Arthur writhed a tiny bit, trying to become comfortable, but his squirming stopped when Alfred pushed inside of him, gaining a loud ecstatic, yet slightly pained, howl from the Brit.

The pace was quite slow, but that was only because it was both of their first times and Alfred didn't want to harm Arthur, even if it was a quick exchange of feeling pain to feel pleasure afterward. "Alfred...f-faster…" Arthur pleaded in a tiny mew, rocking up to meet Alfred's slow thrusts.

Alfred hesitated before complying, thrusting a bit hastier. Arthur cried out louder in delight, his hands wrapped around Alfred's neck and his hands tangled in the American's sandy-colored hair as he continued on panting heavily.

Minutes later Arthur let out a tangled, shrill bellow of glee, and Alfred knew he had found Arthur's sweet spot and positioned himself against it, repetitively drilling against it. Arthur screeched giddily, his grip tightening on the locks of hair his hands had found in Alfred's hair, and moments later he came, spilling out onto the bed beneath him with a loud shriek before he fell limp.

Alfred continued on, determined to prove good endurance, with a sly smile. But, his breath hitched as he nearly was pushed over the top, sweat beading on his forehead, as Arthur recuperated and started producing noises again.

Matthew turned the doorknob with a tiny sigh, staring at the bandages all over his arm. He could feel pain pricking at it, and everywhere else there were scratches, but he fought to ignore it as he pulled the door open.

Alfred yowled when he finally reached his limit, his thrusts halting as he spilled into Arthur and fought to quickly recover, laying on top of him. Arthur waited with big green eyes while he did so, breathing deeply. Matthew's eyes widened tremendously at the sound, forehead creasing. _Was that Alfred? _He thought, standing still in the doorway.

As soon as Alfred felt himself steady again, he continued on prodding into Arthur, receiving a loud, surprised keen of pleasure, followed by plenty of gasps and moans.

Matthew blushed madly and tromped down the hall, hesitating before pushing open Alfred's door. He stumbled back a bit, still stunned even though he had seen it coming when he had heard them. Alfred stopped drilling into Arthur and it took Arthur a minute to realize something was up, staring up at Alfred.

"I-I…Hey, Mattie…You're home early," Alfred stammered, his cheeks cherry red with embarrassment. Matthew shook his head subtly and put up a hand. "Good to see you, too," he said sarcastically with a grimace, which made Alfred gasp in surprise. "No! I didn't mean it like that-""I know, I was kidding." Matthew interrupted. He stood in silence, his gaze flickering from Alfred to Arthur.

"Anyways, I suppose I'll be in my room. Don't worry about it." He disappeared before Alfred could protest, if he was to, and Alfred blinked. He pulled out of Arthur and wrapped his hands around Arthur, nuzzling his shoulder with his nose. Arthur snorted and closed his eyes, basking in Alfred's presence happily. The both of them drifted off easily, fatigued.

**Author's Note: To be totally honest, Matthew died in the first draft owo But then I got like halfway through the chapter, got frustrated because I couldn't think of anything-and wanted someone to interrupt Alfred and Arthur yeee-so I was just like, "Screw this Matthew you is gunna come back to life." So yeah that's how that happened. I was like laughing so hard while writing the scene where Mattie comes home and I dunno why. It was really funny to me apparently. Also, I know like NOTHING about car accidents and comas and stuff, so I tried my best to sound like I did xD I hope I did good o3o Kay, that's all! Thanks for reading, and now I am off to prepare for school LOL -Frost**


	4. Chapter 4

Alfred woke up, his arms still wrapped around Arthur securely, breathing in his blissful scent. He blinked sleep away, the sunlight filtering through the window to show it was morning, and trailed his hand up to caress Arthur's face, running his hand along his cheek softly. Arthur's pure green eyes fluttered open and he smiled softly, a weight lifting off his shoulders.

"Morning," Arthur greeted tenderly as Alfred locked his gaze. "Morning," Alfred grumbled, his gaze flickering away. "I didn't wake you, did I?" "No, I was already somewhat awake," Arthur said with a tiny chuckle. "Don't worry about it," he added. Alfred slowly nodded and they both lay there for a moment in silence.

"I should get going," Arthur said suddenly, breaking the silence. Alfred tensed slightly. "Why?" He asked in a hoarse, quiet voice. Arthur opened his mouth but he couldn't seem to find an intellectual reply that made sense and sighed. "I don't know. I just figure…I don't know what we'll do…" He said.

"Well…" Alfred started slowly, "If you want to I have some movies we could watch." Arthur quirked an eyebrow, "What kinda movies?" He asked uncertainly. Something about the way Alfred said movies was off to Arthur.

Alfred's gaze seemed to shadow but yet at the same time light up. "Horror movies!" He squeaked. Arthur's forehead creased a bit. "I'm not really a fan of horror movies…but I suppose for your sake…-" he broke off quickly when Alfred's grip tightened around Arthur's waist in the semblance of a hug with a happy yap. Arthur tensed a bit, his hips slightly aching in response to the embrace as if to remind him what had gone down last night.

"I'll go get them!" He said, and he sat up a bit too quickly, eliciting a yelp of pain in result. "Shit," he cursed quietly, "I forgot how sore…" He trailed off, shaking his head and forcing himself to his feet, the air striking his clothe less body.

Arthur watched with slight amusement as Alfred continued to mumble to himself as he strode across the room and shuffled through a pile of movies and games that were on a desk. His gaze landed temptingly on Alfred's backside but he tore his gaze away, silently scolding himself for his perverted mind.

"Aha!" Alfred breathed before returning to Arthur, holding out the case and giving Arthur a questioning look. Arthur examined the cover held out to him and felt a slight shudder run through him, but he nodded slowly in answer to the unspoken question.

Alfred grinned and walked over to a large TV resting on a large, ebony table that was slightly dusty. He took a few moments to remember where the DVD input was and fed it the disc, listening to the tiny whirrs as it went to work.

Arthur waited quietly with Alfred, and finally the screen popped up, the first of many commercials starting to ramble. "There," Alfred said with a flat voice. Arthur wondered what he was thinking; he sounded like he was nervous.

He paced quickly back to the bed and leaped back onto the bed beside Arthur Arthur recoiled a bit in surprise, wincing as if Alfred might fall on him. "Well, you sure seem sore now," Arthur said sarcastically, shaking his head with a tiny smile. "Yeah?" Alfred laughed a bit as he raveled himself back into the blankets. "Seems it didn't take long for my muscles to adjust…" He winked at Arthur, his blue eyes with a mischievous sparkle to them. A shiver ran down his spine, his heartbeat quickening slightly as he understood what the American was saying.

"Don't you want to watch the movie?" Arthur blurted before he could stop himself. But Alfred grinned, obviously amused with the question. "Yeah, of course, I was just talking about later." He responded. Arthur forced a sly smile, feeling the back of his neck burn massively.

"Oh, the movie's starting," Alfred said spontaneously, nodding his head briskly at the TV. Arthur's gaze followed Alfred's to the screen, and he could feel Alfred move slightly closer to him. Arthur blinked in surprise. "Are you cold?" He asked. "Y-yeah." Alfred stammered, dumbfounded. Arthur nodded quickly, even though he didn't quite believe that Alfred was indeed cold.

As the movie went on, Arthur could feel Alfred jump slightly a bit at certain points and tense at others, and was slightly amused. But Alfred tried as hard as he could not to break the heroic act, biting back whines and trying not to outburst.

Alfred couldn't help but wonder why Arthur didn't even wince at any part whatsoever. Actually, he had an unreadable look to his face, as if he was hiding something. He pushed it away with a tiny concerned sigh and pulled his attention back together to the movie.

But the minutes dragged on and he found himself too curious to keep himself out of it. "Arthur, how come you aren't scared?" He asked. Arthur glanced over at him. "I…" He tried to decide whether he should tell Alfred or not, knowing it would only lead to more questions that he wasn't sure he could even handle answering.

Moments later, Alfred let out a surprised, feminine screech as one of the main characters was murdered out of nowhere as the murderer jumped from the shadows and drove a knife through the man's heart. Arthur's face darkened and he looked away from the screen, but it was in anything but horror. He brought himself to answer Alfred's question though.

"The reason I haven't been scared because I've witnessed much worse." He murmured.

He could feel tears well in his eyes that spilt over, rolling down his cheeks.

Alfred stared at him with wide eyes. "Arthur, what do you mean? What's wrong?" He asked in a soft voice of confusion and concern. "I'm fine," Arthur lied, his voice trembling, ignoring the first question, closing his eyes for a few moments and then opening them again. "Arthur," Alfred said, a bit more roughly. Arthur clenched his teeth, one hand grasping the blanket as he found himself growing out of control, the movie rolling on without either boy's attention.

"Arthur, seriously, what's up?" Alfred tried again, ignoring the screams in the background. Arthur didn't reply, too choked up. "I don't know what's going on, but I know it's not fear…right?" He had an unnecessary teasing tone to his voice. "Bloody correct!" He snarled in Alfred's face, his pure green eyes flaring, making him flinch in surprise.

Alfred grasped the remote and clicked pause, moving to stare at Arthur with a grave look to his face. "Arthur, tell me what's wrong." He said in a low voice. Arthur looked away from Alfred, tears continuing to race down his cheeks. "I-I…" He stuttered. "This summer, me and my younger brother, Peter, were walking around the neighborhood," he began, forcing the tremor out of his voice.

Alfred blinked, he hadn't ever heard of Arthur's brother. But he stayed quiet, considering he might find out why he had never been brought up. "Suddenly, two boys came out of the shadows. They were about 17 or so.

"One of them grabbed my hands and bent them behind my back to keep me from escaping or protecting Peter. The other one…" He swallowed hard. "Not only did he rape him," Alfred took a sharp breath of surprise, "but after he raped him he…" He paused again to gather his strength, "he murdered him with a pocketknife." He said numbly, tears pouring down his cheeks now. Alfred tensed, but stayed quiet.

"They gave him a stab practically everywhere but the heart so he would suffer…" He growled, grinding his teeth together slightly. "I was useless. I couldn't save him. I watched him unwillingly lose his virginity and then get bloody killed…" He shook his head and fell into Alfred's chest, sobs racking him wildly. Alfred held him quietly.

_"A-Arthur! Please! Do something! Help me..!" Peter screamed, sobbing wildly, his sky-blue eyes desperate. Arthur remained frozen, with his hands pinned behind his back helplessly, his eyes wide and tears inching down his cheeks. "ARTHUR!" Peter screamed again, making Arthur's blood boil as the younger boy took a stab to the stomach. He shuddered and closed his eyes, growing lightheaded from the sharp scent of blood and everything else going on around him._

"I'm so sorry Arthur, I didn't…You could have told me…" He murmured, snapping Arthur from his atrocious memory. "I know…but I've never really had any friends. I've been used to keeping everything to myself. To being isolated." "Well that's changed now. You can tell me anything, Arthur." His gaze softened and Arthur seemed to calm down a bit. The tears dried on his cheeks and his hitched breathing managed to steady after many minutes of both of them lying there silently.

Alfred wasn't sure how to act after the outburst, and he decided he definitely shouldn't-and wouldn't- turn the movie back on, so he grabbed the TV remote and hit power.

Then, without warning, he gently grabbed Arthur's head and tilted it up to connect their lips. Arthur paused a bit in surprise before returning the kiss somewhat contently.

Alfred rolled on top of Arthur and gripped his wrists tight, pinning him to the headboard and continuing to kiss him, growing more rough every minute. Arthur let out a frail moan as Alfred pulled back, and his breath came fast and heavy as Alfred brought three fingers to his lips and suckled on them for a few moments and then prodded Arthur's entrance with one finger, sliding it in with some difficulty. Arthur yelped in surprise and arched his back slightly.

Then, as Alfred pumped with the one finger, he brought his lips down to Arthur's now-fully-erect member, placing his lips around it carefully, earning a strident gasp of delight from Arthur. He bobbed his head somewhat cautiously, gradually adding all three fingers into Arthur as he did so, and after a few more moments he pulled back, breaking a small line of saliva and retracting his fingers as well.

He shifted positions, lining up with Arthur's entrance and pushing in without further warning, receiving a shrill cry from Arthur that rang around the house. Alfred paused shortly to let himself and Arthur adjust, and then started thrusting painstakingly slow. He gave an amused huff when Arthur tried to spread his legs more and gave a pleading mewl, and began to speed up the pace steadily.

The headboard shook vigorously, thumping against the wall behind it, but neither Arthur nor Alfred cared. But Alfred knew that Matthew would probably care-his room was right on the other side of the wall. He pushed the thought away and focused on the task at hand.

He could tell Arthur was growing close after many long minutes, and gave an impish smile as he changed his angle to hit Arthur's sweet spot-still remembering where it was-and at the first hit Arthur yipped loudly in pleasure, his breathing speeding up. Alfred lunged into it a bit harder, and Arthur gave into the desire and came, white splattering onto Alfred's chest, with a loud wail of ecstasy.

Alfred followed not much later, letting out a soft groan, collapsing onto the bed beneath them, his member limply falling out of Arthur as it fought to recover.

They both lay there for a few moments, and when Arthur revived he said something that surprised Alfred. "Let me top for once," he whispered seductively, sending a shudder down Alfred's spine and making his member twitch, coming back to life and quickly beginning to solidify again.

"Okay," He murmured in reply, smiling softly. He'd like to see how Arthur handled this.

Arthur summoned enough exertion so that he could flip the order of the two, pushing Alfred onto his back and towering above him. He grinned down at the American smugly, quite overconfident of himself.

Arthur began to wet three fingers to mimic everything Alfred had done. Then, he lowered his fingers from his mouth and to Alfred's entrance. He gruffly pushed one finger inside, and progressively-but much more quick than Alfred had-added the three moist fingers and pumped them multiple times. Alfred let out tiny, lewd mewls as Arthur did so, and then all too quickly the fingers were removed.

Arthur somewhat clumsily clambered on top of Alfred, and once he finally managed to get himself steady he awkwardly guided his member to Alfred's entrance, taking multiple times of prodding before he finally managed to slide in.

Lowly, Alfred let out a whine of pleasure mixed with pain, sweat beading on his forehead. His chest heaved slightly in exhaustion from the night's activities and he forced himself to relax when Arthur let out a long hiss about how tight he was.

Arthur continued to loom over Alfred for a few minutes, his forehead creased slightly, but he began to softly rock his hips. Alfred bit his lip as Arthur finally managed to speed up somewhat into a horribly sloppy, uneven rhythm. It wasn't great, since Arthur was amateur but Alfred would take it. He lay stagnant-except for movements in which Arthur's thrusting forced-and quiet under Arthur, only occasionally emitting any noise.

Arthur found himself growing fatigued minutes later, his breathing hitched from tire. But at one particular angle that Arthur thrust seconds later, Alfred let out a high-pitched bark of crazed joy, making Arthur shudder in pleasure; he'd found Alfred's sweet spot. He positioned himself against it and, as fast as he could manage, drilled at it, receiving loud, full moans from Alfred.

His sandy-blond hair was crazily ruffled and it fell onto the bed in subtle locks, his one strand of hair that never felt obliged to stay in place bouncing about. Arthur paused in his current work and gave a sly grin. Alfred looked up at Arthur, confused, but Arthur reached forward and clasped the ahoge in his fingertips, rolling it a few times with intrigue. Alfred let out a bellow of lust at the touch, writhing somewhat wildly.

Arthur raised an eyebrow in surprise and before he could react to the fascination of the strand of hair, the sound Alfred had released had him coming again, his vision blurring intensely as he spilled into Alfred. He inhaled sharply and tensed, shuddering a bit as he waited for the world to stop spinning around him.

He knew he was growing close to being unable to continue, so he collapsed onto the bed beside Alfred, the white substance trickling out of Alfred's entrance as he pulled out, and gave a little huff, his chest rising and falling quickly.

He closed his eyes and him and Alfred lay silent for a few minutes before Arthur spoke up. "So then, how did I do?" He asked, slightly breathless. Alfred looked over at him with warm blue eyes. "You did all right, I suppose," he replied thoughtfully. Arthur's face shadowed slightly. "All right?" He echoed, frowning. "As compared to who?" He snarled, a bit more angrily. Alfred's eyes widened in alarm, "No one!" he insisted. "I'm just saying," he added quickly.

"You're just saying _what_?" Arthur demanded in a sharp voice. Alfred's eyes narrowed. "Dude, calm down. I was just teasing." "Whatever," Arthur said. He lay there quietly, and they would have been fine off had Alfred not spoken up again.

"I guess I just thought you'd be better than you were," he said in a flat tone. Arthur stiffened. "What's that supposed to mean?" He asked loudly. "Was I not good enough for your expectations?!" He sat up, his green eyes burning into Alfred's surprised, blue ones. "N-no, I'm just-Agh never mind! Stop being so…so…_prissy!_" He spat, tearing his gaze away from Arthur's.

"Prissy?" Arthur echoed in disbelief. "Oh, okay. I get it," he said, his voice frail and hysterical. He forced himself to his feet and found his clothes scattered among the ground and scrambled into them.

Alfred watched silently, confused. Arthur cleared his throat and turned to Alfred with cold eyes. "If you really hate me that much, then we're over." He said in a low snarl. Panic flashed across Alfred's expression only for a mere second before he replaced it with anger. "There never was a 'we,' Arthur. Get out of my house."

"My pleasure!" Arthur yelled, turning heel and fleeing out the door, slamming it loudly behind him and speeding through the hall. He sharply turned the corner of the hall and pushed through the front door, tears pouring down his cheeks before he could even try to stop them.

Alfred watched him go, and once he heard the front door crash open he burst into tears, grasping the pillow which Arthur had slept on the previous night. "What did I do?" He sobbed into the pillow, too muffled by the material to be understandable.

Matthew swung the door open and marched inside. "What the _fuck _is going on?" He demanded quietly.

Alfred didn't respond, just looked up with red, puffy eyes. Matthew sighed, rubbing his forehead perplexedly. "Please tell me." Alfred shook his head and buried his face back into the pillow, breathing in the stale scent of Arthur and then letting out a loud cry, shaken slightly by hiccups.

Arthur walked toward his house, biting back sobs but not bothering to hold back the tears that raced down his face. He was almost there when he saw a figure in the distance that seemed annoyingly familiar. He prayed the person-if they in fact knew him-didn't notice him as he got closer and closer.

But he noticed the silhouette lift its head, spotting Arthur and waiting for him to get closer before swooping in. As he got closer, Arthur could see it was a boy-Francis, to be precise. He clenched his teeth and kept walking, making no sign of greeting to the French boy.

"Arthur?" Francis asked, tilting his head a bit. He didn't respond, looking away. "What's wrong, mon cher?" He questioned as he stepped in front of Arthur to block his path. He let out a low, warning growl at the motion. "You can tell me," he insisted when Arthur still didn't reply to his question.

"Just leave me alone!" He snapped, dashing off. Francis watched in surprise and concern, but didn't make any move to pursue him. He sighed. "Don't think this is over, mon cher!" He called after him as he hurried up the driveway to his house which was right in Francis' view around the corner.

_So that's where he lives…_ Francis thought with a sly smile before he turned and started to walk toward his own house.

Arthur pushed through his front door and sank to the ground, pulling his knees to his chest and giving weak sobs as he sat there. He buried his face into his knees but continued to weep softly.

Matthew sighed, "Alfred, just tell me. It'll do you better." "How?" Alfred asked. "Telling you isn't going to bring Arthur back..." Matthew's eyes widened somewhat. "Well neither is crying your eyes out!" He retorted. "Besides, and I know I don't know anything about what happened so I apologize, if Arthur's the one making you cry right now, then he's not worth it." Alfred blinked. _He's right, _he thought, grimacing. "So maybe it's time for change," Matthew said before he turned and walked out the door.

Alfred ceased his crying and except for the occasional hiccup, he quietly basked in his thoughts. He sighed. _Well, _he thought, balling up his hands into fists which still clutched the pillow, _maybe it _is_ time for change. _He closed his eyes for a moment and then released his grip on the pillow, leaning against the headboard of his bed.

Arthur sighed and suddenly a current of anger toward Alfred ran through him. He couldn't help but wince as Alfred's words ran through his head;

_"There was never a 'we,' Arthur." _

He shook his head slowly. He knew now he just had to find someone else to replace Alfred. Maybe in time, Alfred would come back…_No, _Arthur scolded himself, _he's gone. Stop caring. Find someone else. There are plenty people who are as good as-no, better than-Alfred. _

He sighed. He couldn't blindly make decisions now, though, so he staggered to his feet with some difficulty and he tottered to his room and flopped onto the bed. He stared at the bland, white ceiling for a few minutes before his eyes drooped close and he found himself drift into unconsciousness.

**Author's Note: ERMAHGERD. A wild chapter appeared! *shot* Yeahh, sorry this took me forever. Had no ideas, so this is kinda...bleh, I guess. Also, don't kill me, I know nothing about horror movies, seeing as I've never watched any in my life xD And I just wanna say the reason Arthur is a horrible seme isn't *totally* because it's his first time x3 I just can't really imagine a seme Arthur, unless he's like 2p or something, which he isn't in this story, I more picture him as uke. ****Anyways, I have a few ideas for the coming chapter(s), so hopefully I can whip up a new chapter sooner than this one! ^-^;**


	5. Chapter 5

Arthur lay in bed, listening to the muffled chirps of birds and cicadas telling him to get up, but he ignored them. His eyes were red and stingy from crying and he didn't really see the point of getting up- now that he hadn't slept nearly all night, and it was six in the morning-today considering he had nothing to do. Until, that was, he heard brisk knocking at his door. He balled up his fists at the bleak thought that first came to his mind; _is that Alfred? _

He pushed the thought away, blinking back the tears that formed at the corners of his eyes at the thought of Alfred, and shoved away the blankets. He dropped down onto his feet on the hardwood floor of his room and went to the door, not really caring how atrocious he may look.

As he opened the door, his jaw dropped a little at who was at his door. "Bonjour!" Francis said cheerfully, smiling softly. His smile faltered though when he saw the state Arthur was in. "What are you doing here," he said bitterly, not even looking at him. Francis blinked, "I came to see you, mon cher. You seemed really upset when I saw you yesterday…and…I just want to know what's going on." His gaze seemed hopeful and pleading, and Arthur sighed.

He motioned for Francis to step inside and nodded his head at the sofa a few feet away from the door before heading toward it. Francis followed and sat beside Arthur, looking expectantly at Arthur. Pity clawed at his heart when he saw the dark, doleful look to the British boy's eyes that were once fiery and bright.

"Do you know a boy named Alfred?" He began, looking up for a mere second. Francis blinked. "Oui, I believe so. He is the loud one who has blond hair and blue eyes?" Arthur almost laughed at Francis' perfect description, but didn't. Instead he grimaced. "Yep. Anyways, ah…" He shifted on the couch nervously. _Don't be stupid, _he thought to himself, _Francis won't care that you dated Alfred. Don't forget he likes boys, too. _

"Well, we dated." He paused, shaking his head. "For like two bloody days," he added with a forced laugh. Francis remained quiet though. "Then, ah, um…" He stared at his feet, unsure what to say about the night they broke up. "Umm…" Flustered, he searched for the right words, and looked at Francis curiously, but he didn't seem to be getting why he was stammering, his face still patient and solemn. _Goddamn! When you actually try to probe at his perverted thoughts he's completely oblivious to it! _

"Just say whatever it is, Arthur, I won't mind," Francis said, truly sincere. Arthur nodded slowly, hesitating once more before he finally blurted, "We had sex." Francis seemed only a little surprised, and waited for him to continue without inputting anything. "Well, it was the second time really-" "Two times in two days?" Francis interrupted without thinking. Arthur shot a warning glare at him and he held up his hands in defense.

Arthur didn't respond to the comment and continued with what he was saying. "I-um..-I asked him to let me top and he let me." He paused another moment, glancing at Francis again. The corners of his lips were slightly curved upward, and Arthur could tell he was amused by the story. _Bloody pervert, _he thought before continuing.

"Afterward he insulted my topping skills and we fought and broke up. I-I don't know…I just overreacted and…I lost what might've been the best thing that's ever happened to me," he concluded before he burst into tears, collapsing on Francis. Francis caught him with a slightly bewildered look and cradled him to his chest. "Shh, it's going to be okay, Arthur," he murmured, his chin nuzzling Arthur's tousled blond hair, but he wasn't sure if he believed his own words.

"It's his own fault for insulting your topping skills, really. If he's that picky then he's a slut." Francis pointed out, trying to hide a sly grin. "Y-yes, but…I just don't know. I think everyone can be slutty at times." He was unsure why he was defending Alfred, but it just seemed the right thing to do.

Although he was serious, Francis snorted with laughter. "Are you, mon cher?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. Arthur normally would have snapped at him or hit him, but he sighed. "Yes, I truly believe I am…" Francis somewhat smiled.

"So, basically you're upset because of the loss of a sex relationship?" He questioned. Arthur tensed a bit. "No!" He cried, eyes narrowing. "Goddamn, why am I even talking about this with you?" He uttered furiously, swiftly tearing himself free from Francis' grip and standing up.

"No, no I'm sorry!" He insisted. "Listen, listen, please..." Arthur paused, his back still turned to the Frenchman, but said, "You're wrong Francis. I loved him. It was not a sex relationship."

But Francis acted as if he hadn't spoken, resolute to prove his point. "The reason I'm asking that is all there was in your relationship was sex. Seeing as you had a two day relationship, and you had sex both days. So, any feelings you think you had were probably wrapped up in the sex." "No, I love him," he said softly. "Ah-ah-ah," Francis said, "_loved_ him," he corrected with a tiny smile.

Arthur growled angrily, "You don't know shit, Francis! Why would I being crying like hell if I didn't still love him?" He demanded, his hands tight fists at his sides. "Because you think you love him," Francis said quietly. Before Arthur could object again, he continued, "Your sense of feeling was shadowed by the ecstasy of the sex. You loved the pleasure that was offered and displayed your affection toward Alfred."

Arthur swung his head around, glowering at Francis before returned his head to where it had been previously. "Are you saying I'm a slut?" "Your words, not mine!" he insisted, smirking but not denying what Arthur asked. Arthur grimaced with oncoming anger but realized Francis was right. "I-I…yeah…But I could have sworn my feelings for Alfred were real," he mumbled, still not making a move to return to the couch. Francis shrugged. "A lot of things feel real that are not. Dreams feel real, but they are not, oui?" He pointed out. Silence gripped Arthur by the throat, not sure what to say because Francis was correct.

Francis sighed. "I'm really sorry Arthur. If he hasn't crawled back to you by now then he never loved you in the first place." Suddenly, Arthur snapped. "How could you say that Francis?" He yelled, turning around to stare at Francis with furious, intense green eyes. "It's been a day! One bloody day! How can you be so sure?" He snarled, tears starting back up again. He opened his mouth to say more but stopped himself.

_"There was never a 'we,' Arthur. Get out of my house." _

A shudder ran down his spine. Francis was right; Alfred didn't give a shit about him. He fell to his knees and started sobbing. Francis awkwardly shuffled on the couch, unsure how to react to the Brit's mood swings. "Well then, if you want to make yourself more depressed give it some time," He said somewhat icily, an edge to his voice. "Arthur, seriously, listen to me." Arthur's softly sniffed and tried to hold back his cries. "Hoping that Alfred will come back and apologize will make you more hurt when he doesn't do it. You have to move on; you can't just sulk about it and be stubborn like this."

Arthur looked over at Francis with wide eyes. "Y-yeah?" He murmured. "Thanks, Francis. I owe you one." Francis locked his gaze for a split second before both of them looked away.

"Yeah, uh, about that, Arthur?" he started, his expression transitioning to nervous. "Yeah?" Arthur questioned in an inquiring, but still somewhat quavering, tone. His gaze shifted to Francis', but the Frenchman quickly tore his gaze away as his stomach twisted. "I-ah…" He paused, still feeling Arthur's stare burning into him. "N-never mind," he stammered, confidence deprived from him. "I-I'll see you tomorrow or something, I guess," he uttered, rising to his feet and rushing out the door.

Arthur watched with wide, confused eyes, slightly hurt by his sudden disappearance. He shrugged it off and sighed, shifting his position on the couch so that he was lying down and closed his eyes, too lazy to return to his room. He closed his eyes, but found that yet again he could not sleep. He muttered something under his breath, and shifted positions incessantly to try and become more comfortable, and finally he just forced himself to try and relax.

After quite a while of lying there, he finally managed to fall asleep, the world softly dissolving into the blackness of unconsciousness around him.

_"Hey, Arthur," Peter said softly. Arthur glanced up from his book, raising an eyebrow at the younger brother. "Yes?" "I was wondering if maybe you could take me for a walk." Peter said, leaning against the wall adjacent to the couch Arthur was settled on. Arthur sighed, his forehead creasing. "Can't you go by yourself? You're twelve." Peter looked down at his feet. "Yeah, but…I wanted you to take me." When Arthur didn't respond, he continued quietly, sounding quite morose. "You never talk to me or anything anymore," he whined softly. "Never since mom and dad died."_

_Arthur tensed visibly, closing his eyes tight for a moment. Peter seemed oblivious to the fact that he shouldn't have brought that topic up and waited for Arthur to say something. "Fine, let's go," he muttered, slamming his book down on the coffee table beside the couch and standing up. Peter's eyes lit up. "Thank you!" He squeaked, dashing out the front door while giggling. _

_Arthur silently slithered out after him, still wishing Peter hadn't mentioned their parents' deaths. "Come on!" Peter exclaimed, snapping Arthur from his thoughts. He took a deep breath and forced a smile, "Coming," he yelled back, sprinting after Peter. _

_Once he had caught up with Peter they slowed to a stroll, and Arthur had his hands in his pockets. "So, is there anything you wanted to talk about? You said I never talk to you anymore," he asked. Peter looked up with big blue eyes. "Ah…" He thought for a moment. "Y-yeah, there was." He said gently, his gaze fluttering back down to his feet. "Yes?" Arthur asked softly. Peter frowned for a moment and his footing slowed slightly. Then, suddenly tears slipped down his cheeks. Arthur's eyes widened but he kept quiet, knowing that Peter still had something to say. _

_"Why did mom and dad have to die?" he choked, looking at Arthur. Arthur stopped walking and Peter paused too, returning Arthur's stunned stare._

_"I-I don't know," he confessed, tears welling in his own eyes as well. "No offense or anything, but can we change the subject?" He added, his eyes closing as he remembered his parents' deaths. _

_Him and Peter had been sleeping, just months ago, when they heard screaming. They had both run to see what was going on and by the time they reached the end of the hall they were too late; both of their parents lie dead on the floor with the murderer long gone. Arthur had blamed himself and Peter had told him not to be so hard on himself. _

_"Sure," Peter blurted, searching for another topic. "Ah, so, how come you're always so prissy?" Peter asked nonchalantly. Arthur glanced at Peter. "Prissy?" He echoed angrily. "I'm not bloody prissy! Say it again, wanker!" He snapped, and then winced at his own words and the bite to his voice. Peter let out a soft whimper. "See..? You get so upset so fast…" He grimaced faintly. "It's hard to talk to you when you're being like that." _

_Arthur blinked a few times, trying to hold back his risen anger. "Ah…sorry…" He finally said quietly. "Let's keep walking," he suggested with a smile. Peter nodded wordlessly and continued on walking. "Oh, and Arthur," Peter began quietly. "I wanted to ask you one more thing, why-" he cut off as two men leaped from the shadows. _

_"S-shit!" Arthur stuttered, sliding in front of Peter. Peter, terrified, gripped Arthur's shoulder with both hands, which were quickly holding empty air as one of the men tore Arthur away from Peter. One gripped Arthur's hands, snapping them behind his back with a loud crack and receiving a pained yowl from him. _

_"Arthur!" Peter screamed, but was quickly silenced as the other man smacked him to the ground, causing him to shriek again as the concrete dug into his back. "Let's make this quick, kid," the man said in a low, gruff tone. Arthur writhed helplessly in the other man's grip. "Bloody let me go!" He bellowed furiously. _

_The man simply laughed and stretched the Brit's arms further down his back, causing him to bite his lip so hard that it drew blood in attempt to heave a scream, the rancid, metallic taste lingering in his mouth. "Someone's bark is worse than their bite," he taunted with an amused sneer. "Shut up," Arthur said dismissively._

_His green eyes were still wide open as he painfully-mentally and psychically-watched the man rid Peter of his clothes. Peter gave Arthur one last panic-stricken stare, his face soaked with tears and his eyes wide, before the man clutched a lock of his blond hair on the back of his head and smashed his head into the ragged concrete. Peter's aggrieved shout of response pierced Arthur ears and he continued to struggle in the tight grip of the other man at the horrid noise._

_The man torturing, so to speak, Peter released his member from his pants and Arthur's breath shook with fear. "Shit…" he whispered under his breath. "What was that, kid?" the man captivating him asked with an audible smirk to his voice as he put his foot on Arthur's back and pressed, still holding his arms so that both his arms and spine stretched. "Shit!" He repeated in a roar of pain, tears springing in his eyes. _

_He felt the world begin to spin around him, and he couldn't breathe from the peculiar way his body was being bent. But eventually the man removed his hands and feet from him, making him fall limp on the ground. He lay there for a moment, the world still spinning around him as he gasped for breath, but he heard another scream from his younger brother and forced himself to sit up. His head whirled with pain and dissent at the sudden motion, but he squinted at Peter as his head finally began to more stable._

_The man had pressed inside him without any sort of preparation. Arthur tried to stagger to his feet but the other man easily yanked him into his grip, restraining him yet again. He let out a low growl, but quickly his head began to twirl once again, making him feel horribly nauseous._

_He dozed off from the light-headedness for quite some time, Peter's screaming fuzzy but bold in his ears. Eventually the man holding him loosened his grip slightly to let Arthur recuperate. When he finally came to his senses, he watched with wide eyes as the other man pulled out from Peter and grabbed a switchblade from his pocket. He chuckled sardonically and flicked the knife upward and stabbed it into Peter's shoulder. _

_He gave yet another screech of pain as blood oozed from the gash, trickling down his back. He dragged the knife down Peter's back but Peter didn't scream this time, his throat practically raw. Blood dripped into a large pool on the ground, and Arthur gritted his teeth, tears forming in his eyes._

_"A-Arthur! Please! Do something! Help me..!" Peter screamed, sobbing wildly, his sky-blue eyes desperate. Arthur remained frozen, with his hands still pinned behind his back, his eyes wide and tears inching down his cheeks. "ARTHUR!" Peter screamed again, making Arthur's blood boil as the younger boy took a stab to the stomach. He shuddered and closed his eyes, growing lightheaded from the sharp scent of blood and everything else going on around him._

_With a few more stabs to the forehead, neck, and back, the men dropped Arthur and Peter and ran off. They both collapsed onto the ground, but Arthur struggled to his feet, running to Peter with shaky legs. "P-Peter! F-fuck, are you okay?" He stammered, tears dripping off his chin onto Peter's heaving chest as he kneeled beside the inert body, feeling the warm blood soak his knees and hands. "Arthur…" Peter rasped, looking up with distant blue eyes. "I love you." He whispered. His breathing began to shallow._

_"I'm so sorry Peter," he sobbed frantically. "This is my entire fault, I've been such a bloody bastard to you, I'm sorry, I hope you ever forgive me…" Peter smiled sadly at him. "It's okay." He said softly. "It's not your fault." Arthur shook his head. "I love you so much Peter…I'm sorry this had to happen." "I told you, it's okay Arthur," Peter said tenaciously before his head fell back slightly and his eyes slid shut. _

_His breathing stopped and Arthur lifted a blood-covered hand from the ground and brought it to Peter's blond hair. He stared at his brother's peaceful but dull expression before he burst into sobs. _

Arthur bolted awake, shooting up on the couch. His breath came quick and shallow and his cheeks were damp with tears. He gripped one of the cushions on the couch and buried his face in it, sobbing wildly and feeling the pillow vibrate slightly at the muffled noises.

After a few moments he silenced himself as best he could and glanced up at the clock that hung on the wall; it read one in the afternoon. He hesitated before standing up to go for a walk. He needed to clear his mind. He walked out the door, after applying his shoes to his feet, and headed down the driveway quietly.

As he walked, he began to think of Francis' sudden vanishing and what he had originally planned to ask him. _I'll ask him tomorrow, _he thought to himself, pushing it to the back of his mind.

Suddenly, he heard loud voices drifting from around the corner of the street. He listened as hard as he could, freezing.

"…live here anymore…dead…" was all he could catch, but he felt a shudder run down his back. He _knew _that voice. How could he not? He began to panic inwardly but kept listening, creeping around the corner so he could hear more.

"I doubt it. The kid was persistent, I doubt he moved just 'cause we killed his brother." Another voice replied loudly. Arthur gnawed on the corner of his lip nervously. "Then we should look for him. Y'know, search the neighborhood. If we don't find him ourselves, we'll ask the others if they've seen him." The first person suggested. "Sounds fun," a sadistic, cold voice replied with a tiny chuckle.

As Arthur continued to sneak around the corner, silently cursing that he was in broad daylight and that there was no plants or shadows to conceal him, he saw the two people. Sure enough, they were the two men he thought they were. A course of hatred ran through him, and he stopped himself just barely from lashing out at them from nowhere.

Suddenly, he stepped on a twig with a loud snap. He tensed, wondering whether to run or stay. He saw the men begin to turn and he turned heel and fled toward his home, his heart in his throat. His feet pounded on the concrete, making a jolt of pressure run up his legs every time a foot hit the ground.

"I think I know just who that was," one said with a grin. "Arthur?" "Yep."

"Well, well. We've found our prey. Now all we do is swoop in for the catch," the man gave a wry smile. "Arthur won't see what hit him," he added appallingly.

**Author's Note: DUN DUN DUUUNNN *shot***

**Sorry this took so long! My dad wanted to take my laptop to a friend's house, and then my Advanced English teacher threw a book report at our faces (which I still haven't finished |'D) so yeah. **


	6. Chapter 6

Arthur's eyes fluttered open, and alarm coursed through him when he didn't recognize where he was. But he felt himself relax slightly when the memories of the previous night came flooding back to him.

_He pounded on the Frenchman's door, a wild, frantic look to his wide green eyes as he incessantly banged on the door. Francis nearly tore the door off its hinges while swinging it open with a fiery look to his eyes. "What the hell are you thinking, that you're going to knock my door like-" He broke off when he saw Arthur, and the pleading look his eyes. _

_"What's happened?" He asked quietly, his gaze softening. "I'll tell you when I'm inside," he said crudely, pushing past Francis into the home. The walls were a calming lavender, and the floors were cherry wood. The room wasn't a muddle, but it wasn't spotless either. "Okay, you're inside now," Francis said with a slight edge to his voice as he shut the front door behind him._

_Arthur sighed, still quivering a bit. "You were the only person I could trust," he whispered, closing his eyes. "T-these men are after me. I don't think…I don't think I can afford to live at my own place anymore, Francis…The story's long as to why these men are after me, and I'm not sure if I can handle telling it again-I told Alfred the day we broke up-" he paused with a flash of pain in his eyes "but maybe I'll get around to telling you sometime." _

_Francis' head whirled as he tried to process everything Arthur had just told him. "Um, so you're asking if you can stay here to hide from said men?" He asked, cocking his head to the side, his blond hair resting against his cheeks. "Y-yes…Please, Francis…This could be a matter of life or death…" Tears brimmed the Brit's eyes. Francis frowned, "Okay," he agreed with a tiny sigh of confusion. _

_Arthur forced a soft smile. "I-I don't mean to put you in danger or anything. Surely you can convince them I'm not here?" He tilted his head slightly. Francis hesitated for a quick moment. "Of course," he breathed. _

_Arthur blinked gratefully. "T-thank you," he stammered quietly. "Here, follow me." Francis turned around and headed toward a case of stairs, clambering down them. Arthur came down more painstakingly, trying to test every step before placing them due to the darkness of the staircase and the narrowness of the stairs. He stumbled on the last step but regained his footing on the ground of the basement, the softness of the carpet steadying him. _

_"This is my room," he said simply, smiling softly. "We'll have to share the bed since I don't really have any other furniture you or I could use without it being uncomfortable," he added. Arthur glanced at him to see his expression, but he seemed perfectly solemn. Arthur could tell he had enough sense to know not to try anything. He turned his attention back to the room. _

_The room was somewhat small, but definitely bigger than most rooms he'd seen. It had baby-blue walls and the carpet was a light blue-gray color. There was a bed in the northeast corner of the room, and the rest of the furniture-a dresser, a coffee table, a desk, and etcetera -was spread out among the room._

_Finally remembering he needed to say something, he nodded to what Francis had said previously and commented, "This is a pretty decent room." Francis nodded. "Anyways, why don't we head on to bed since we have school tomorrow?" Arthur hesitated, realizing Francis was right. "Wow, we do? The weekend flew by…" He sighed and traveled to the bed, climbing onto it. Francis mimicked the movement and lay about a foot away from Arthur._

_"Goodnight," Francis said, closing his eyes. Arthur hummed in agreement rather than repeating the phrase, and also shut his eyes. He felt highly uncomfortable sleeping in jeans, but he wouldn't admit it. _

_Wait then, _Arthur thought, snapping himself from his thoughts. _Where's Francis? _He glanced at the empty groove in the bed beside him. He sat up, and glancing at the clock he realized it was only 3:30 in the morning. Panic fluttered in his chest. _Where the bloody hell is Francis at this time? _He thought, irritated, and sat up in the bed. Before he could make a move to get up and look for Francis, he told himself to stop worrying and sleep more due to the tiredness that greeted him. So he did, laying his head back down on the pillow.

Francis was upstairs, on the main floor of the house. He sat on the couch, his arms wrapped securely around his knees, hugging them to his chest as he thought. _Why do I feel this sickening dread suddenly? _

Then, he remembered why Arthur was here in the first place, feeling as if he'd been slapped by reality. He grimaced, vexed. _I don't know why these people are after him…and I don't know when they might come for him, but… _His thoughts broke off when he heard thuds of heavy footsteps and a few murmurs of low voices. Not long after, a loud, brisk knocking sounded at his door. He stiffened on the couch, and wondered whether he should get the door or not.

"We know you're in there so open up!" A voice yelped. _Well shit, there goes my options. _He stood up, trembling slightly as he moved toward the door. When he opened the door he paled, the color draining from his face. Two tall men stood in the doorway, and they both had guns. One of the men cocked his gun to Francis' face. He heaved a startled cry, backing up a bit. "What the hell do you want?" He snarled, doing his best to keep his voice from quavering and to sound hostile. "We wanna know if you've seen someone. Arthur Kirkland."

Francis tried to keep his reaction under control so they wouldn't suspect he knew the Brit. "Arthur Kirkland?" He echoed, a fake look of thought on his face. "Doesn't ring a bell. Sorry," he said. The man wrapped his index finger around the trigger of the gun. "Don't play dumb with me!" He growled, his eyes narrowing cheekily.

Francis struggled to keep calm, his frantic blue eyes honed in on the gun, waiting for it to shoot. "I seriously do not know what you're talking about," he said, his voice flat, frowning. "It would be much appreciated if you took that gun away from my face, though, and left me alone," he added charismatically.

The man's grip on the gun tightened. "I'm not afraid to shoot," he responded coolly. Francis felt a smile creep onto his face. "I never said you weren't," he retorted just as nonchalantly. "Stop acting like you're cool you sadistic French bastard!" The second man yowled.

"Oh? I'm sadistic, then? Gee, that sounds a lot like an adjective some people might use for oh, I don't know, you?" He smirked.

_Bam!_

The gun sounded with a loud ring around the house, seeming to deafen Francis as a bullet tore through his shoulder. He screeched in agony and fell to his knees, one hand shooting up to his shoulder. _Fuck… _He gritted his teeth together as he felt warm blood begin to gush from the wound, weaving its way over and under his fingers.

Arthur jolted at the gunshot, and if he wasn't awake before he sure was now. His heartbeat and breath sped up quickly in dread. He jumped from the bed, shoving the blankets aside and dashed upstairs. When he made it upstairs, he froze in the doorway like a deer in headlights, staring at the men.

One had blond hair that was spiked in some places and menacing blue eyes; the other also had blond hair but framed his face down to the edge of his cheeks and had green eyes. He wasn't sure what to panic about more-seeing Francis on the ground bleeding, or the two men that loomed in the doorway with a satisfied smirk.

"What the bloody hell are you bastards doing here?" He screamed at the two men before they could do what they came for to him. Both of their eyes widened at Arthur's vexed state. When they didn't answer, Arthur staggered forward, his eyes clouded.

Then, he gave a militant smirk, and both of his hands shot out, each one grabbing a neck of the two without a second's hesitation. He shoved them up against the wall of the doorway, and the choked gasps and coughs coming from the two only made him more hysterical.

"Drop the guns." He instructed coldly. They did as they were told, the weapons clattering onto the floor. Francis watched with wide eyes, surprised and a bit scared of this side of Arthur. "If I let you go, will you run?" he asked in a murmur. Both men nodded as well as they could with Arthur's tight grip on their necks. He paused. _If I do this…I would have my revenge. But I could be in huge trouble, _he thought as he stared at the guns. "Don't. Don't run. Or I will shoot you faster than you can get a few feet from here," he warned as he loosened his grip from their necks and speedily grabbed both guns.

The men collapsed on the ground, gasping for air. Arthur hurried to the phone which slept on the wall. He unhooked it and dialed 911.

_"What is your emergency?" _A young woman greeted swiftly. "Ah, yes, my friend," he said carefully, "has been shot. Please get here as fast as you can." _"An ambulance will be right there, what is your location?"_ He cited his address somewhat slowly so the woman could comprehend him, and then a click told Arthur that she'd hung up so he did the same.

He insouciantly strolled back into the main room and smiled. Both men were still sprawled on the ground. "Now then," he said grimly, holding up the guns. "Thank you for your patronage in not running away. Your reward?" He gave the men an intense green glare filled with hatred. "A one-way ticket to hell." Their eyes widened with panic and they scrambled to their feet, backing up against the doorway.

He shot both of them with two loud bangs, purposely choosing certain targets so they could either die slowly or have wounds to live with but still have the strength to run. He decided run away would be the effect he could make happen, and who knows whether the first or the latter would apply to when they got away. "Now get out, I don't want your blood on the carpet."

The men gave horrified whimpers and hurried out the door, clutching their wounds. Arthur watched with satisfaction as they sprinted off. He turned to Francis moments later. Francis noticed with slightly blurry vision that tears were welling in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Francis," he whispered.

Francis jerked his head up in surprise. "What? What are you sorry about?" "…I was a total brutal freak. I lost control." "It's called revenge," Francis retorted. "I don't know what these men did to you, but you were pissed enough to act opposite of yourself."

Arthur sighed. Now was the time. "Do you want me to tell you what happened?" He asked in a low voice. Francis blinked and opened his mouth to reply, but he was cut off when a siren blared outside the house.

"I'll tell you later," Arthur concluded, giving Francis a determined don't-die-on-me look. Francis forced a smile as Arthur opened the door with a creak. Paramedics darted in with a stretcher and hauled the Frenchman onto it. Arthur watched silently.

"Would you like to ride with him?" One of the paramedics asked. "Yes." He said, his voice cracking. "Thank you," he added in a more gentle, quiet voice as he followed them out the door. His gaze remained focused on Francis as they loaded him into the back of the ambulance. When he was strapped down, they beckoned for Arthur to come join Francis, and he complied.

He settled in a chair beside Francis, and started to slip into his thoughts. Then, the back doors were slammed shut, making him jump. He gave a sigh, calming his quickened, startled heartbeat. "Francis?" He asked quietly. No response.

He took a wobbly breath and closed his eyes. Then, he moved closer to Francis, his green eyes fluttering back open. He stared at the Frenchman's inert, peaceful face, his eyes shut gently. He was definitely unconscious. Arthur balled up his fists at his sides, and moved even closer. His lips grazed Francis' and he pressed them more assertively against.

He slowly pulled back moments later and gave a pessimistic look to Francis' wound, wondering if Francis would live. Tears spilled and ran down his cheeks. "I swear if you don't get better," he warned in a quiet voice. He shook his head softly. He wrapped his arms around his legs and brought his knees to his chest, burying his face into his knees as he continued to cry. It was dead silent in the so-called-room except for the frequent sniffle from Arthur.

Minutes later they'd arrived at the hospital. As the paramedics unloaded Francis, Arthur approached one of them. "C-can I join Francis in whatever room he's going to?" He asked softly, his voice raspy. A woman turned her head to look at him, pity sparkling in her eyes. "As long as you'll be able to handle the blood. The doctors will have to clean his wound," she warned him. He nodded. "I'll be fine, thank you," he said, turning and scampering after Francis and the other doctors, glancing up at the sky. It was pitch black except for a few streaks of the upcoming dawn. The air had a cold tang to it, and no clouds filled the sky. The stars were cold and dismal.

When they entered the room, the doctors didn't acknowledge Arthur in any way, so he simply took one of the seats by the door. He watched as they gathered tools and began to rinse the bullet wound with water. They delved for the bullet to take it out, and Arthur tore his gaze away, starting to feel sick.

When the doctors had finished treating Francis' wound, they left the room, leaving Arthur and Francis alone. He wondered if Francis would wake up soon, considering the doctors hadn't given him anything to create anesthesia and make him pass out or something.

He felt the tears starting up again as he stared at Francis. _Please…Don't take Francis too. You've already taken my parents and my brother. I…I couldn't stand… _His thoughts trailed off and he turned away from Francis. He curled up in the chair and sighed, letting the tears fall freely, soaking his clothes.

A young woman entered the room, glancing first at Arthur and then at Francis. Her pale brown hair curled at her shoulders and her green eyes were filled with concern. "He's still unconscious?" She asked Arthur. He nodded slowly, feeling insecure now that any person could tell he'd been crying. "I see. He should come around soon," she smiled softly at Arthur.

"My names Elizabeta," she added in greeting quietly. "I'll be the nurse for Francis. If he or you need anything, let me know." Arthur nodded. "Thank you," he responded. "Also, there's a remote for the TV on the stand beside Francis' bed. Feel free to watch whatever." With that, she turned and left the room. He blinked, watching her leave and turn down the hall. His gaze turned to the stand Elizabeta had mentioned, and he walked over to it, clutching the remote. He turned on the news and waited for it to come on.

His stomach lurched as soon as the sound kicked in.

_"…men claimed that they had been shot by resident Arthur Kirkland. They were taken to the nearest hospital but had lost too much blood; they died approximately an hour later. The police later discovered that these men were Matthias Kohler and Vash Zwingli, two murderers that have been missing for years after their first murder of Toris Laurinaitis in Paris, France."_

Arthur listened quietly, unsure whether these words meant he wouldn't be arrested or whether they were just throwing in facts.

_"Police are currently thinking about whether Arthur Kirkland shall be disciplined or let off the hook. Police officer Lukas Bondevik believes that although Matthias and Vash have been taken care of thanks to Arthur, murder is still wrong and should be punished for. His words have been taken into consideration, and more and more officers are beginning to think discipline is the best solution."_

"No!" Arthur yelled aloud. He glanced around, embarrassed, wondering if anyone had heard him. Sure enough, moments later Elizabeta poked her head in the doorway. "Are you okay?" She asked, cocking her head. Arthur gave a shaky sigh, glancing at Elizabeta. "I…I think so. Sorry." "You seem troubled," she said, her eyes sparkling. Arthur noted that she didn't seem busy, but he insisted to himself that it was only five or so in the morning.

"I…I don't know if I should talk about it," he said in a low murmur. "You can trust me." She insisted, glancing up at the TV. The announcer was now talking about a fire, but they had missed where it had occurred.

"I…" He glanced at Elizabeta, unsure. "No, I can't…Not yet. I don't think…I just…" He trailed off, figuring his mashed up sentence made no sense. She gave a slow nod, seeming somewhat disappointed. "Let me know if you change your mind!" She chirped, seeming happy enough, and walked away.

Arthur continued to sit, gazing out the window beside Francis' bed. The sun was starting to rise, which made Arthur grow worried. _Should I leave now? I have to go to school, right..? _He glanced at the clock on the stand. Burning red numbers red 6:00. _Well, how am I supposed to get home anyways? _He thought, growing irate at the inconvenience.

"Wait, Elizabeta!" He called down the empty hallway. He thought she hadn't heard him after a minute, and began to pull his head back into the room, but then a flash of brown hair caught his eye at the end of the hall. "Yes?" She asked when she had approached him. He could tell that she had intended to plug in his name, but didn't know it. "Um…I was wondering…" He looked at the ground. "I don't have a car, nor can I drive…Is there anyone who can take me to school?"

Elizabeta's eyes widened a bit. But then they softened with understanding, realizing that Arthur strived diligently in school and didn't want to miss a minute. "Sure thing! I can take a breakfast break and have an excuse," she said with a wink and a giggle. Arthur chuckled warmly.

"My bus normally picks me up at seven or so, so, uh, I guess, maybe…" _I have nothing better to do. I don't want Francis to wake up and be in a horrible mood or make me stay with him all day…So… _"Maybe we can go to breakfast together?" He chimed politely. The way her eyes sparkled with intrigue made his stomach knot. _Wait a second, _he thought, growing dubious. _She must think I'm asking her on a date and that I am straight. _He pushed the matter away, although it still lingered in the back of his mind.

"Of course," she cooed. "By the way, I'm Arthur Kirkland," he grinned softly, and held out a hand. But her eyes widened and she staggered back a bit. "A-Arthur, Arthur K-Kirkland?" She gasped. She put a hand on the wall to steady herself. Arthur could guess she'd been watching the news as well. "Yes," he said frowning. "That's what I wasn't sure if I should talk to you about, thanks for understanding," he spat icily, his face reflecting the hurt boiling in his heart.

Elizabeta let out a soft sigh. "I'm sorry Arthur, I…I just didn't expect…" She looked at the ground. "It's okay. I understand if you hate me or whatever." She shook her head. "They shot him," she nodded to Francis, "so I know you probably got wrapped up in the moment." Arthur shook his head vigorously. "That's not why I did it." She shot him a confused look. "They…They killed my parents and my younger brother," he breathed, feeling a rush of crossness run through him as it did every time he mentioned the incident.

Elizabeta's eyes widened with sympathy. "That's horrible," she whispered. He didn't reply to that. "But what you said is true though. I did partially get revenge on Francis." "So, is Francis," she seemed to have picked up on his name now, "your brother or something?" "No, my friend," he said, gulping. Sweat beaded on the back of his neck. "Then why…?" "Look…I don't want to get into that right now," he said, looking away.

"O-okay." "So, do you still want to go get breakfast?" He asked. "Of course," she replied, blinking. He nodded.

They walked out together and headed for the entrance. Arthur still anxiously hoped that everything would work out okay by the way she walked only inches away from him, their hips practically brushing together. He wondered if she'd ever get the hint as they headed toward Elizabeta's car, Arthur trailing directly behind her as he didn't know where she was parked.

**Author's Note: Wow, Arthur's like super-ultra-yandere in this chapter xD Anyways, I used some minor-ish characters to play the murderer and one of the cops! :'D For those who don't know, Matthias=Denmark, Vash=Switzerland, Lukas=Norway. **


	7. Chapter 7

Arthur sped out of the school, a bit anxious to head back to the hospital. After they'd had breakfast, Elizabeta promised she'd pick him up from school and take him to the hospital since he wouldn't have a ride. He glanced around looking for the fuchsia Porsche that was hers, and he finally spotted it. Normally, it would have stood out since not many cars are fuchsia, but it was slightly obscured by the scattered buses in the parking lot.

He made his way to the car, and when he tried to open the door he realized it was locked. He knocked on the window, startling Elizabeta. She hastily unlocked the doors, and when he opened the door she gave him a weak smile. "You scared me!" she laughed. Arthur laughed too, but it was more forced. He buckled quickly when he had sat down.

"So did you talk to your teachers?" She asked as she started the car and waited for the buses in front of her to pull out, rapping her fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. "Yes. I got all my work for the next two days, like you said to." He responded. "Good. Francis still hasn't come around, but he's been a lot more…_active_ in his sleep." She said, her cheeks tainted slightly red.

Arthur blushed a bit as well; he could imagine all too well Francis' behavior. "Well, that's good I suppose…" He chuckled a bit. She snorted with laughter.

A honk made both Elizabeta and Arthur jump a bit. Elizabeta, bewildered, glanced at the windshield and saw that the buses had long pulled out. She slammed on the gas petal and the car lurched forward. "What the bloody hell?!" Arthur exclaimed, clutching the armrests as tight as he could. "Sorry!" Elizabeta yelped, her knuckles pale from her firm grip on the steering wheel as she slowed to a normal speed.

Arthur let out a breath of relief and loosened his grip on the armrests. The both of them remained awkwardly silent as they struggled to calm down.

After a while, they were pulling into the hospital's parking lot. He climbed out of the car and slammed the door shut behind him, and heard the slam of Elizabeta's door as well as they travelled toward the building.

It didn't take them long to reach Francis' room. "I'll be in to check on you later," Elizabeta said before walking away, not bothering to check on Francis. Arthur nodded after her and entered the room quietly, tossing his backpack to the ground.

Francis was propped up a bit more than he had been before, and his breathing more heavy. By the way his eyes were just barely shut, or that was what it seemed, Arthur wondered if he was conscious or not. He stealthily walked over to the bed, his feet brushing the tiled floor.

His hand hovered over Francis', and he winced a bit at how cold his hand was. Moments later, Francis' eyes fluttered open and Arthur jerked his hand back, flushing red. "Y-you're awake!" Arthur whispered, smiling softly as his cheeks returned to their normal color.

Francis cried out when the pain registered in his shoulder, his hand grasping the bandages that were wrapped around his chest. Arthur's eyes flashed with concern. For a few minutes, Francis' breathing was shallow and dense as he tried to endure the burning sting in his shoulder. "Mon Dieu…It hurts…Dieu! Make it stop!" Francis whimpered, shifting restlessly in the bed. Arthur moved forward and pressed his lips against the Frenchman's to silence his yelps of pain.

Francis' eyes widened in surprise and he stiffened only slightly, but then began to feebly kiss him back, his eyes sliding shut. Arthur lifted himself onto the bed and towered over Francis, still kissing him.

Elizabeta strolled down the hall toward Francis' room. She had heard his cries and decided to check on the two. She cradled a clipboard with both hands which had papers on it for her to fill out if Francis' wound was worsening. She stopped at the door and as she caught sight of the two, Arthur still straddling Francis and kissing him coarsely, her clipboard clattered onto the ground and her jaw flew open.

Arthur looked up from Francis at the rattle of the clipboard hitting the ground and when he saw Elizabeta his face burned deep red. "E-Elizabeta!" He stammered, clumsily climbing off the bed. "H-Hello…" Elizabeta looked down at her feet, her face also red. "Is Francis doing okay?" She mumbled, trying to forget seeing anything. Arthur took the idea for granted. "He's in a lot of pain," he said. _That's why I kissed him, _he left out.

"Oh. Let me see him," she brushed past Arthur and to the side of Francis' bed. His breathing was still quick, and Arthur thought to himself that maybe kissing him wasn't the best idea. But he seemed happy enough that he had done it, in pain or not. "Where are you feeling pain?" She asked softly as Arthur took a seat beside Francis' bed. "Ah, where do you think?" Francis said scathingly, glancing down at his bandaged shoulder.

Arthur barely caught Elizabeta's small wince, but he pretended not to see it as she balled her hands into fists at her sides and left the room to go get supplies to treat his wound. The room was silent for a few moments.

"Arthur…?" Francis finally spoke, his voice a soft rasp. Arthur glanced over. "Hm?" "W-why did you kiss me?" Arthur stared at Francis blankly at the question. "B-because…I love you." He lowered his gaze, embarrassed. Francis took a long breath. "Really? You do?" He asked. Elizabeta had long received the tools necessary, but she was intrigued by the conversation and lurked right outside the door, eavesdropping.

"Yes…Ever since Alfred and I broke up you've taken me into your care. You've been the nicest person I've ever known." Francis smiled. "Well, Alfred was an asshole to you. He probably regrets that he ever hurt you." Arthur didn't reply. "Listen, if you love me like you claim to…Will you do me the pleasure of being my boyfriend?" A warm silence flooded the room and Arthur grinned. "Of course," he replied. He stood up, bent over the bed, and gave Francis a chaste kiss.

Elizabeta, not able to see the two, decided the conversation was over and walked in. She tensed when she saw them, Arthur pulling away from the kiss. She wasn't sure how she always ended up walking in when they were kissing today. "Okay, Francis, I'm going to clean up your wound and get you some new bandages. You probably bled a lot, so…" She trailed off with a shrug and unraveled the gauze from Francis' chest.

Arthur watched quietly, forcing his gaze to be fixed on the blood-soaked bandages rather than Francis' uncovered chest. When Elizabeta had finished, she turned to Arthur. "There." She said, a bite to her voice as she left the room without another word.

"What's her problem?" Francis muttered. Arthur sighed and shook his head subtly. Francis continued, "I was going to ask her a question, but I guess not." "I can go get her if you want," Arthur offered, blinking. "Non, she'll probably be back soon enough to make sure we're not doing anything," his eyes flashed and he laughed a bit. Arthur couldn't help but snigger as well; it was true.

They sat in silence for a while in wait of Elizabeta's return. But she didn't seem to be coming back. "She seemed really pissed when she left," Francis pointed out, breaking the silence. "What did you do to her?" Arthur gave a grim guffaw. "I didn't do anything, she just led herself on to believe I did something to her."

Francis looked at him, surprised. But he didn't say anything, as Elizabeta walked into the room. If she had heard Arthur, she didn't show any signs of it as she walked in. "I forgot to take the old bandages," she explained as she balled up said bandages and started to walk away. "Wait! I had a question." Elizabeta turned to face Francis. "How long will it take for this wound to heal?" She paused in thought. "It's not too deep, so two more days at most, probably," she said.

"Okay, thanks." Elizabeta nodded curtly and left the room. "You know what we're going to do in two days?" Francis asked. Arthur blinked, pushing away the first thought that came to mind. "Hm?" "I'm going to take you to a restaurant," he said, revealing nothing more of his plan. "Okay," Arthur agreed, his brow furrowed at Francis' vagueness.

Francis laid his head back and his eyes started to droop shut. Arthur decided he was probably exhausted trying to stay awake and reached for his backpack. He took out a large Geometry textbook with a tiny sigh and continued to delve for his notebook for the class.

For the rest of the evening, Francis didn't awaken and Arthur continued to work on his homework. He wasn't sure when he passed out from fatigue in the middle of the night but when he awoken his notebook had fallen to the ground, his textbook was slipping from his fingertips and sunlight was filtering through the windows.

He blinked a few times and glanced at Francis. His eyes were wide open and he lay on his side, staring at Arthur. "I see you're awake," he said. "Did you seriously work on that-" he nodded to the textbook that finally fell to the floor with a thud when Arthur didn't attempt to tighten his grip "-all night?" "Yes, I did," he responded gruffly. "Well, until I fell asleep anyways." Francis nodded slowly. "Why?" He asked curiously.

Arthur shrugged. "Just wanted to get it done I guess." He shifted his position on the chair, groaning quietly at how sore his muscles were. "Francis, do yourself a favor and never sleep on a chair," he said, laughter in his voice. "Well, I wasn't planning on it but thanks for the tip," Francis responded, his eyes flashing with amusement.

"What time is it?" Arthur abruptly said, jolting upward in his chair. "3:00." Francis said sullenly. Arthur let out a tiny sigh. "How did I manage to sleep so long…?" He muttered under his breath. Francis, having not heard him, shifted his position.

Just as the silence was beginning to grow uncomfortable, Elizabeta marched in with a plate of food. Arthur's eyes widened and at the enthralling smell his stomach growled adamantly, considering Arthur hadn't eaten in a long time. "You brought us food…?" "Yes, it's my job to take care of Francis you know," she snapped coldly. Arthur flinched at her tone and how she said "of Francis" rather than "of you guys," obviously rejecting him as she set the tray of food onto the table beside Francis' bed.

"My, my," Arthur said, holding up his hands. "I never said it wasn't," he gave her a warning glance and she shot a glare back at him. "You know as well as I that that's exactly what you intended!" She snarled. Arthur narrowed his eyes. "No, that's not!" He insisted, rising to his feet.

"Yes, it is!"

"Shut up!"

"No!"

Francis watched the two quarreling with wide eyes.

"I never objected that it was not your job, I simply said you did not have to go through the trouble to follow the job's doctrines!" He growled circling with Elizabeta like in a western movie. "Oh, so now you're going to analyze every _fucking _part of the phrase you said?" Elizabeta said hot-temperedly, balling her hands into fists.

"Yes, why shouldn't I? You _obviously _don't understand. You can't seem to fit the meaning of what I said into your tiny_, _feminine brain!" There was an audible noise of skin against skin as Elizabeta slapped Arthur across the face.

Arthur recoiled, touched a hand to where he'd been slapped, and stared at Elizabeta in shock. His cheek was bright red from the impact of her slap as he withdrew the hand. "You _bitch!" _He roared furiously. "What are you gonna do about it, huh?" Elizabeta mocked, her green eyes still flaring with anger. "You'd _never _hit a girl, would you, Arthur Kirkland?" She smirked. "You obviously have the wrong idea," he spat through gritted teeth and, before the words could sink in, punched her in the face.

She staggered back in surprise, collapsing onto the ground. Francis continued to stare, his jaw dropping. Arthur closed his eyes and sighed. He was trembling all over; the adrenaline had gotten to his head and thus he'd punched her. Elizabeta struggled to her feet, and stared at Arthur. She just barely managed to get her temper under control before she would have erupted on him. She gave a hysterical chuckle, shook her head, and turned and left the room.

Arthur blinked as she left, and Francis let out a low sigh of relief. "Arthur, are you okay?" Arthur shook his head in response and made his way back to his seat, still vibrating with anger and fear. He sat down and slumped in the chair, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands palmed around his nose and mouth. "W-what's wrong, mon cher?" Francis stammered, his eyes filled with concern as he saw Arthur's shoulders rise and fall spasmodically as if he couldn't breathe.

"Just leave me alone, okay?!" He hissed, moving his hands from his face and slapping them onto his thighs. Both of them winced, and Arthur held a hand up. "Okay, I'm sorry, I just…" he trailed off. In all truth, he wasn't sure what was wrong. "I don't know, I guess…I'm just abashed."

Francis gazed at him. "Don't worry about it." He said. His words had more affect than he thought. "…You know what? You're right. Elizabeta didn't have the right to get so pissed at me, as I did nothing to harm her in any way. She harmed herself." His eyes were emotionless and cold. "Umm…Arthur? Can you explain what happened between you two, please? I know I asked you before but I'm becoming more curious and confused by the moment…"

Arthur glanced at Francis. He sighed, thinking of where to start. "Well, it started obviously as her becoming your nurse. Then, I realized I'd have to go to school later in the morning and asked her for a ride to school. Seeing as school wouldn't start for an hour or so, I asked her to breakfast. She took it the wrong way, assuming I meant a date, and that's why she suddenly started being discourteous after she saw us kissing," he explained. Francis' eyes seemed to light up at the memory of that moment.

"I see," he said slowly, snapping back to reality. Arthur nodded slowly and swooped downward to scoop up the Geometry textbook and notebook. He flipped them back open to the pages and worked on finishing the last assignment he'd had to do. Francis rolled over onto his side to try and fall asleep again, knowing Arthur wanted to be left alone with his homework.

Not much later, about thirty minutes to be precise, Arthur had finished his homework. He crept around the bed and waved a hand in front of Francis' closed eyes. No reaction. He decided Francis' was as unconscious as he'd get at this point and stepped out the door.

He bumped right into Elizabeta as he did so, making her drop her paperwork, paper flying and twirling its way to the ground. She shot a quick, frustrated glare at him before squatting down to collect the papers. "I-I'm so sorry!" He exclaimed. "I swear I didn't mean to." She sighed as she stood back up. "It's fine…Is there something you needed?" Arthur could tell she was striving really hard to be polite to him.

"Y-yes…I needed to talk to you," he said, smoothening down his hair. She visibly relaxed and her gaze softened. "Yes?" "Listen, about earlier…I'm sorry. I screwed up, I was in a bad mood and pissed off. It's….I just…" Elizabeta broke him off by pressing her lips to his. His eyes widened tremendously but he did not pull away.

And that was what disturbed him, shame stirring deep inside the pit of his stomach.

Before the shame could spread and make him come to his senses, Elizabeta threw her arms around Arthur's neck to keep him in place and kept roughly kissing him. She didn't even care who saw them now, even if it were Francis. Arthur hesitantly wrapped his arms around Elizabeta's waist. Elizabeta pulled back a few inches, her breath still warm on his lips. "Francis is unconscious, right? That's why you chose now to sneak out and come apologize to me?" She asked softly, her lips curved slightly upward into a faint smirk. Arthur gulped and nodded. "Then," she glanced over her shoulder, almost as if paranoid someone were spying on them, "maybe…you and I?" She didn't finish her sentence, nor did she have to for Arthur to understand.

Arthur tried to say "no," but the word wouldn't come and he couldn't shake his head either. He was practically frozen. _Why can't I reject her? Is it the fact that there's some sliver of me that…wants to? _He shuddered, and before he could even think it through he was nodding his head breathlessly.

"Good," Elizabeta breathed huskily, then moved backward, trailing one hand from where it had lay on Arthur's neck down to his hand to grasp it and letting the other fall limply to her side. "We'll find a place that's not so public then," she said, giving his hand a quick squeeze and dragging him along. Arthur reluctantly followed, his heart sinking.

Elizabeta sharply turned a corner into a patient room that was unoccupied, which inconveniently happened to be right next to Francis' room. She practically slammed the door shut and pinned Arthur to the wall, starting to kiss him crudely again. He let out a soft groan as the back of his head hit the wall and finally forced himself to kiss her back, though it was more unwilling and feeble.

Elizabeta halted, noticing his reluctance and gazed at him with curious eyes, somewhat hurt. "Aren't you going to top? Or are you going to make me ride you?" She asked, smirking mischievously at the last question. Arthur felt his stomach knot at the sentence. He wasn't even sure how he'd managed to get himself into this muddle.

He felt his knees grow slightly weak, wobbling a bit. "I can't do this," he gasped suddenly, feeling as if he couldn't breathe. Before she could say anything he pushed her to the side and stormed out of the room, making a beeline back to Francis' room.

When he entered the room, however, Francis was sitting up in the bed waiting for Arthur. "Hello," he said, his voice dashed with slight anger. "Hi Francis," Arthur murmured, blinking. "Where were you?" Francis asked, tilting his head to the side. "Oh, I was just-" he broke off coughing a bit. "Um, I was out." He responded vaguely. "Out?" Francis repeated dubiously. Arthur swallowed. "Yes, out. Out as in talking to Elizabeta." "Oh, I see," Francis said shrugging. "One more question," Francis said, his voice more rough than before. "Why does your member look harder than steel?"

Arthur shivered and realized he was right. The whole scene with Elizabeta had turned him on somehow. Maybe it was the sexual tension of losing Alfred.

He sighed. "Okay, listen. I went to apologize to Elizabeta. I knew I'd have to or she'd be a bitch to us for the rest of your stay. Before I could get halfway through a sentence she kissed me and she even tried to get me into having sex with her. I-I think the only reason…my member," he forced the crass words from his mouth, "enjoyed it was because of the whole Alfred involvement. Losing him, and the sex that applied put me in a state of sexual tension and-" Francis put a finger to Arthur's lips, cutting him off. "It's okay, mon cher. I understand. Sexual tension happens. It's best to just give into it." Arthur raised an eyebrow but didn't comment. "So, did you…?" Francis continued more softly. "N-no…I just barely managed to come to my senses."

Francis blinked warily. "Oh, okay. Well then, anyways, do you think I can get out of here soon?" "I hope so," Arthur replied, trying to act as casual as possible. "Then I can finally take you to the restaurant!" He chimed, grinning happily. "You know, you don't have to take me to a restaurant," Arthur mumbled, lowering his gaze.

"Sure I do!" Francis laughed boldly and lay himself down on the bed. He could feel the muscles around his wound beginning to loosen up. He gazed up at the ceiling thoughtfully.

"I love you, Francis," Arthur murmured suddenly. Francis smiled, not looking at Arthur. "I love you too, Arthur, mon cher," he whispered softly, then tilted his head to stare out the window. "Je t'aime," he added softly under his breath as he gazed at the setting sun, the sky ablaze with the colors spilling out of the sun and tainting the sky.

**Author's Note: Kay, so I feel like this chapter's on crack or something xD But anyways yeah, not much to say w Until next time~ Oh and by the way I ****_think _****"Je t'aime" means "I love you" in French, anyways. I'm not professional in French and haven't taken classes, etcetera, so sorry if my assumption was wrong! x3**


	8. Chapter 8

After two days, it was a Wednesday now, Elizabeta stopped by to take a quick look at Francis' wound. She smiled softly. "Okay, looks like you're good to go, Francis!" She didn't even look at Francis as she scribbled a few things on her clipboard and then walked off.

Francis hauled himself off the bed and landed on the smoothly tiled flooring with a thud and walked over to Arthur, who quickly gathered his stuff. The couple walked out, hand-in-hand, their fingers entwined. Arthur waited in the lobby as Francis quickly filled a check out paper out and when he finished they exited the room, their delight swamping the area around them.

The sky was a purple-blue color, indicating that it was around seven at night. The stars were vague in the sky but still visible, and the rays of sunset were just barely visible as it came to an end.

"Oh, shit!" Francis muttered suddenly, halting. "Hm?" Arthur warily glanced over. Francis' jaw was locked tight with frustration. "How do you suppose we get out of here?" He demanded. Arthur sniggered a bit. "Your house really isn't that far from here, we can walk," he insisted, rolling his eyes playfully. Francis sighed, nodding, and reluctantly turned in the direction which his house was.

The two walked side by side, quiet for the majority of the distance. After about fifteen minutes, Francis let out a small whine, "I'm _tired."_ "We're almost there," Arthur replied curtly, and Francis held himself back from complaining again.

It didn't take too much longer for them to reach Francis' house, and Francis practically ran up the driveway to his car, grinning eagerly. Arthur followed, giving a small, amused smile.

The car was an exquisite Corvette that was an audacious shade of navy blue. The car seemed to physically assimilate the sunlight and reflect it so that its color looked a glossy silver. Arthur kept marveling the car as Francis scurried inside to fetch his keys. He gently ran his hand along the smooth texture of the car, and Arthur could tell the car was brand new.

Moments later, Francis returned, pressing the unlock button on his keys and walking over to the car. Arthur got into the passenger's seat and Francis in the driver's. He turned the key in the ignition and the volume in which the engine roared made Arthur jump a bit.

Francis and Arthur meandered downtown when they arrived, trying to find a good restaurant. Arthur skulked behind the Frenchman, and nearly bumped into him when he stopped and remained stagnant.

Arthur followed his gaze and his jaw flew open a bit when he saw the restaurant. "Francis, this place is expensive!" he exclaimed. Francis gave a low chuckle. "Oui, I know that. I am the one paying, so don't worry about it." He winked at Arthur and then walked through the doors without waiting for Arthur. Arthur bolted up and after him in surprise. _And I don't just mean expensive; I mean exorbitant, _he thought to himself.

The two were quickly tended to by a man who looked achingly like Peter, though obviously much older. Arthur balled his hands up into fists at his sides as he and Francis followed the man to a booth. The booth's seats were a regal maroon color, and there was a candle lit in the center of the table. The scent of vanilla wavered from it, and Arthur slid into the booth after Francis.

"Hello, my name is Tino," the man greeted. Arthur let out a small sigh, as if he'd half expected the waiter's name to be Peter. "What can I get you to drink?" he questioned, his brown eyes pools of melted chocolate that looked almost golden from the reflection of the blaze of the candle. "U-um," Arthur glanced at the menu but Francis held a hand over the menu to conceal it. "We'll have two Syrah wines, please," he said, smirking. Tino nodded and scurried off, and Arthur turned to Francis with wide eyes.

"Are you crazy?!" He snapped. "Ordering wine for me?!" Francis frowned, unsure why the Brit was so mad. The waiter came back moments later and dropped off the wine glasses, and the luscious smell wafted from them, mingling with the vanilla candle's aroma. Soft classical music floated around them.

Arthur sighed a bit, knowing he should calm down. "S-sorry, I just…" Francis tensed a bit, looking up in surprise. "You just?" he urged, wanting to know why Arthur was acting so crazy.

Arthur then realized he hadn't ever told Francis about Peter and he began to tremble. He grabbed one of the wine glasses and took a long, chaste sip before he set it to the side. "Peter…I…Tino…he…" he trailed off knowing he was making no sense, and took yet another sip of wine. "Peter? Who is Peter, mon cher?" Francis asked softly. "Just shut up!" Arthur snarled.

Francis held up his hands in defense. "Calm down!" he barked as softly as he could manage. Arthur shook his head as tears rolled down his cheeks and dripped from Arthur's chin onto the table. Francis ran a hand through Arthur's hair. "Please tell me what's wrong," he pleaded in a low whisper.

"Peter was my brother," was all he could say in response before he burst into tears, nuzzling Francis' clothed chest, soaking the silk-like material. Francis cradled the Brit's head against his chest, murmuring soothing things under his breath. Maybe Arthur was right; he shouldn't have bought him wine. If this was even the wine talking, so to speak. "Shh, cher, the waiter's returning," he said, removing Arthur from his chest. Arthur sniffled and shot Francis a somewhat wanton look but said nothing.

"Are you guys ready to order?" The blond asked, and even though there was concern in his eyes for Arthur, he didn't say anything. "Oui," Francis replied. "We are going to split the eight ounce filet mignon," he said, his voice smooth. "Cooked medium rare," he added before Tino could ask. He nodded, collected their menus, and scampered off toward the kitchen to inform the chefs.

"Are you okay now, Arthur?" Francis asked. "Y-yes…" Arthur stuttered, shuffling back closer to Francis. Francis wrapped an arm around Arthur sympathetically. "If you ever want to talk, let me know," Francis said. Arthur looked up with glassy green eyes. "I-I know…" he said, looking down. Francis gave a soft smile and kissed him.

Arthur squirmed a bit in surprise, giving a muffled cry of shock. Francis smiled, and his arms moved to support Arthur's head, pulling back to look at Arthur. "W-what was that for?" Arthur demanded, out of breath. Francis shrugged and moved his arms from Arthur's head and turned back toward the table. He was well aware that everyone was staring now, but he didn't care.

Arthur sulked with his arms crossed over his chest, but it wasn't because he was mad at Francis for kissing him.

It was the exact opposite, to be precise.

Francis noticed Arthur pouting and cocked his head in confusion, his blond hair swinging like a pendulum with the movement. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, "You look upset."

Arthur nodded, forcing himself to pipe up. _Maybe later, _he thought, grinning a bit. "Sorry, just a bit distracted," he said, bringing his glass of wine to his lips yet again.

The two of them remained quite silent except for a few small conversations until their filet arrived. Arthur's mouth watered at the delicious smell that danced and swirled around the food as Tino set the plate in between Francis and Arthur. "Enjoy," he said, smiling. A small shudder ran through Arthur at the warm smile being offered.

Francis moved to grab the knife, but Arthur beat him to it. "I'll cut it," he insisted, beginning to cut the meat into prim little squares, the meat succumbing to the power of the knife at the first touch. Juices inundated from the filet, making Arthur's stomach bellow at him. He ignored it tenaciously, but Francis soon placed his hands on top of Arthur's to stop him.

"I'll finish the cutting, you eat," he said, his voice a bit icier than usual. Perhaps it was because he knew Arthur hadn't had a proper meal in days. He sighed and nodded, handing over the fork and knife and grabbing his second fork from his silverware.

He poked the fork into one of the decent-sized pieces, and brought his head down to the fork, rather than the fork to his mouth, nibbling on the meat tentatively. He felt like he'd just placed heaven in his mouth. The seasoning and flavor danced along his taste buds, and it took him a moment to start chewing.

Francis grinned. "You like it?" he asked, giggling. "Y-yes! I love it," Arthur replied, one cheek puffed out slightly where the steak was being captivated. "I never really had the chance to eat fine dinners like this, with my family's amount of money. Especially now that my parents and my brother are dead, it's quite hard to earn money for dinners like this, let alone pay the taxes," he said solemnly, frowning a bit.

Francis swung his head around and fixed Arthur with a bewildered stare. Arthur shrunk a bit, knowing he'd said too much. "Y-you…." He shook his head firmly. "I'm so sorry, Arthur, I didn't know." "I know you didn't," Arthur said softly, before he let the subject slip and popped another piece of filet into his mouth.

Francis sighed and finished cutting the remains of the meat. The two ate in pure silence.

When they had finished, they called for the bill, and Francis paid as he'd promised. Arthur gave one last sniff at the vanilla candle so that the fragrance lingered in his nose, and then they left.

Spontaneously, Arthur decided to tell Francis about Peter. He explained the story in as much depth as he could handle, and Francis had a look of sheer horror on his face as he listened. The story took up the length of the drive home, except for a small portion that was silence.

As soon as they walked in the door, Arthur turned around and grinned at Francis. Francis could read everything in that smirk, and he wished he couldn't. He wasn't really in the mood for this right now.

Arthur walked forward and swiftly pinned Francis to the wall, the force so strong that it made a picture that was hung on the wall clatter to the ground. Francis' forehead creased in frustration and he decided there wasn't really any way out of this. He switched the order of the two, pressing Arthur's back against the wall.

Francis suckled on the soft skin on Arthur's neck, receiving a small moan from the Brit. He unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off his arms, letting it fall to the ground. Soon enough the rest of both their clothes followed. He ground their members together as he moved his lips to Arthur's lips, roughly kissing him. A shudder of pleasure ran through Arthur and he pulled back minutes later, panting heavily.

Francis felt Arthur's impatient green stare, and so he quickly moved to comply, wetting his fingers, using another hand to flip Arthur over so that his stomach was pressed against the wall and his back was facing Francis.

Arthur let out an ecstatic cry as one finger penetrated him, and the other digits quickly followed. His breathing was staccato and rutted with moans. His whole body was trembling with delight already, and moments later Francis' fingers were replaced with his erect member. Arthur bellowed in glee as Francis pushed in quickly-both of them knew Arthur would feel no or little pain because of the wine.

Francis didn't bother starting slow, his pace sloppy and hasty. Arthur could practically feel the wall behind him shaking and thudding with every thrust, about to give way. His head was spinning with bitter pleasure, making him light-headed. Soon enough he came, shrieking out as his liquids splattered onto the wall and his body trembled with the intensity.

Francis stopped his thrusting, deciding Arthur would be tired out enough for now. He left Arthur as a heaving pile on the ground and redressed himself. Arthur groaned softly in dissent, but didn't have the strength yet to stop Francis from ending the session.

"Arthur?" Francis asked when Arthur had regained his strength and was shuffling to a sitting position. "Hm?" He hummed softly. "How did you do it?" Francis asked. Arthur looked up, genuinely shocked. "Do what?" he responded. "Stay strong when your family passed."

Arthur tensed visibly, and he looked away, not prepared for the question. Tears were quick to come and they ran down his cheeks. "It's okay, I'm sorry, look I shouldn't have asked that question." "You bloody bet you shouldn't have!" Arthur snarled in a shrill tone. Francis gazed at him. "I know it's hard dealing with your family being-" "You idiot, just shut up! You don't know what you're talking about!" Arthur yelled.

"Arthur, listen to me," Francis said patiently. "No, no!" Arthur said sharply. "Not that I don't give a shit that my family's bloody dead, but I'm not crying because of that." His gaze was clouded and he was shaking spasmodically. "T-then…Why?" "Just leave it alone, please," Arthur whispered. Francis grimaced in pity, slinking an arm around Arthur's uncovered waist.

Arthur took a deep breath. "I stayed strong when my family passed for Alfred." He finally said in a low voice. His heart stretched with pain and he grasped his chest with one hand. Francis' eyes widened. "O-oh," he murmured.

"I always told myself he'd come, that he'd write me, or _something,_" Arthur murmured. Although Francis had no clue what he was talking about, he nodded slowly. "So I told myself to stay alive for that very reason. I-I…I wonder if I've made a huge mistake, breaking up with him," he confessed.

Francis stiffened only slightly, and hurt sparkled in his eyes, but he knew this was a part of Arthur's mourning period. "It may seem like that a lot, but if you dwell on your mistakes and wonder 'what if' or 'why,' you are only going to make things worse for yourself," Francis murmured. Arthur nodded bleakly, his throat making small jumping noises.

_I wonder how Alfred is anyways. I wonder if he's found someone, too…If he's moved on… _Arthur thought, his eyes a dark shade of green and sparkling dismally. _Guess I'll find out tomorrow at school. _

"Maybe we should get to bed, Arthur," Francis suggested. It was probably at least nine or ten now. Arthur nodded and heaved himself to his feet, not bothering to redress as he strolled to Francis' room, cautiously going down the stairs and then flopping into the wide bed that was Francis'.

Francis joined him in the room minutes later, and stripped down before climbing into the bed. He wasn't trying to hint at anything, he just simply got too warm for comfort at night. They kept to their own sides, Arthur wanting to be alone and Francis respecting that.

**Author's Note: Hey guise this is why you never give me coffee.**

**Oh goodness, sorry for the late post! I've been really busy lately and I kinda had a writer's block. So, I apologize a thousand times for the short chapter, the quality of the chapter, and the late post date! Anyways, a bit of foreshadowing in this chapter if you can catch it : But yeah! Farewell, I hope to get another chapter in soon. Finals are next week so therefore it will be a bit hard.**


	9. Chapter 9

The next day at school, Arthur tried to find Alfred but could not accomplish the task. He was nowhere to be found. He went through all of his passing periods glancing side to side in hopes of finding the American meandering through the halls, but he had no such luck. He was horribly distracted in all of his classes.

"Arthur!" A voice called from afar. Arthur spun around, nearly colliding with Francis in the process. "Bonjour!" He sang, patting the Brit's head playfully. Arthur smiled softly. "Hi Francis," he said. "Let's head to the bus!" Francis exclaimed, tugging on Arthur's wrist. Arthur was pulled along but then something caught his eye and he halted, glancing over his shoulder.

He wished he hadn't.

Against the wall of the school were Alfred and Ivan…making out. Ivan had Alfred pinned against the wall, his leg was wrapped around one of Alfred's, and his palm was oh-so-innocently resting on Alfred's cock. Both of them were flustered and they looked like if someone didn't stop them soon they'd be fucking, no matter the fact they were in public.

Arthur shook all over and he tried to calm down but he couldn't. Jealousy nabbed at his heart and he gritted his teeth together. Francis however didn't see what Arthur was staring at and tugged impatiently at Arthur's wrist. He forced himself to look away and succumb to Francis' tugs, but tears rolled down his cheeks as he did so.

Francis noticed Arthur starting to sniff more than usual and turned to ask if Arthur's allergies were acting up, but noticed Arthur's damp cheeks and red eyes. "A-Arthur!? What's wrong?" he squeaked, yanking Arthur to his chest; he welcomed the motion and buried his face in Francis' chest. Francis waited patiently while Arthur wept softly.

"Now, now…tell me what's wrong…" Francis murmured in a soft coo. "Just look behind you!" Arthur yelped, his words slightly slurred. Francis glanced over his shoulder and it took a minute for him to spot Alfred and Ivan. "Oh!" he exclaimed, his eyes widening. He glanced side to side, not sure what to do to console his upset love. "Shh, Arthur," he insisted softly, petting the boy's blond hair, "I'm here. I know it's painful, mon cher…but it's going to be okay…"

The words tasted bitter in Francis' mouth but he said them anyways for Arthur's sake. He was outrageously jealous that Arthur was still not over Alfred; it made him feel as if Arthur was not faithful in their relationship. "S-sorry," Arthur stuttered, still shaking. He pulled back from Francis and they wordlessly found their bus.

Arthur could feel all eyes on him as he and Francis walked down the isle of the bus. Whether it was because they knew he and Francis were a thing or that he was crying, he didn't know, but they were definitely staring.

"Mon amis, please stop staring at Arthur like that, he is mine and mine alone." Arthur blushed bright red and lowered his gaze, and the laughing followed immediately after, mocking him intensely. He started to tremble again, and a voice that drifted to him pushed him over the edge; "Fucking faggots! Ha! Hope you two have fun fucking when yah get home!"

Arthur turned on his heel, and before Francis could stop him he punched the boy who said it square in the face. Gasps rose from the students and before anything else could go down Arthur spun back around and stormed to the back of the bus. Francis silently followed, not sure what to say or do to console the angry Brit.

"Don't listen to them, they don't know anything," Francis finally insisted in a soft tone as he slid into the seat Arthur was sitting in. "I know," Arthur said dismissively. His green eyes were troubled but they also seemed to glow with thought. "Arthur…?" Francis piped up, tilting his head to the side. "It's nothing," Arthur insisted with a grin. Francis blinked, his forehead creasing with curiosity, but he remained quiet.

When the two got off at their stop, Arthur paused. "I'm going to go grab something from my house, you head home. I'll be there in a while," he promised, then ran up the yard to his house. Francis couldn't help but grin at his enthusiasm, for whatever it may be, as he turned and strolled up the street.

Meanwhile, Arthur walked down the hallway of his house leading to his room. He walked in, and reached up to where an acoustic guitar was hanging on the wall. He grabbed it and unhooked the clip that secured it to the wall and sat on his bed for a moment.

He sighed and lifted the strap over his head and left the house, heading toward Francis' home.

He briskly knocked at the door when he arrived, and the door was immediately opened, scaring him a bit. "A guitar?" Francis asked, blinking. "Yes," Arthur said, smiling. "I've played since seventh grade," he added.

"Oh. Play something," he insisted, backing up so Arthur could enter the house. He walked in and shut the front door behind him and he hesitated before he started playing the intro to "Over and Over" by Three Days Grace. He secretly thought it fit him and Alfred, but he tried to push the thought away.

_"I feel it every day; it's all the same," _he sang softly.

_"It brings me down, but I'm the one to blame…" _

_"I've tried everything to get away…" _

_"So here I go again, chasing you down again," _he sang loudly, closing his eyes and letting his fingers float along the correct frets and notes. _"Why do I do this? Over and over, over and over, I fall for you…" _he sang, letting his voice come all the way out now, even though his voice cracked a bit from the thoughts of Alfred running through his mind. _"Over and over, I try not to…" _he trailed off, not wanting to finish the song. He glanced up at Francis, hoping he hadn't noticed his mix of emotions.

Sure enough, he simply smiled. "You're really talented, mon cher," he murmured. "You should play for the school!" He squeaked suddenly, and grabbed the landline that was resting on the table by the door, dialing the school's number.

Arthur raised an eyebrow and grimaced as Francis rapped his fingers on the soft material of the couch by the table while the phone rang loudly in his ear.

Finally someone picked up. "Ah yes, I'd like to book an assembly for the school tomorrow afternoon," Francis said with a smile. There was a hushed reply that Arthur couldn't hear before he said, "Arthur Kirkland."

He nodded a few times with a few "yes," and "mhm"s before he hung up the phone. "Okay! You're welcome," he chimed happily. "Idiot," Arthur uttered, although a grin was plastered on his face. Francis guffawed softly and then sighed happily.

"Well, I have homework to do," Arthur said quickly. "Is there a room I can use besides your own?" Francis frowned, putting a hand over his chest, feigning hurt. Then he laughed a bit. "Of course, last room down the hall," he said, his blue eyes sparkling as he pointed to the hall to their left.

Arthur nodded and mumbled a "thanks," before scurrying down said hall. He walked in the room and set his backpack on the sofa that was there and sat on the other side, opening up his backpack and taking out his homework and beginning to quietly work on it.

As he worked, he could see out of the corner of his eye the sun making its way down in the sky through the window that was right beside the couch. It was quite soothing, and he smiled as he kept working.

He was just finishing when a muffled call of, "Arthur! It's time for dinner!" floated down the hall. He glanced out the window to see everything ablaze with the tint of the colors of sunset; yellow, orange, and pink shimmered all over trees and plants and houses. He took in the sight as he set his textbook to the side and slowly left the room.

The luscious smell of fish wavered through the hallway, and he took a deep breath of happiness. He hadn't been able to taste fish in years, no matter the fact he could easily buy some. His mouth watered a bit, and he was lured to the kitchen, feeling tantalized by the wonderful aroma.

"This looks delicious, Francis," Arthur gasped when he saw the perfectly golden slivers of fried fish on a plate. The smell continued to dance and swirl in the air, calling his name. "Why thank you," Francis purred. "I learned to cook at a very young age, so I've had a lot of experience you could say." "Well, I'll say!" Arthur exclaimed with a tiny giggle as he retrieved his food.

"So then, are you ready for tomorrow's show?" Francis asked jeeringly as he took a small bite from his fish. "Of course I am, you wanker," Arthur snorted. "I guess we'll see," Francis said, raising an eyebrow. "Are you doubting me?" Arthur asked, smirking. "No, not at all," Francis said in a high voice.

They finished eating in silence, and then Arthur returned to the room provided for him. He finished the last of his homework and then picked up his guitar, beginning to softly play through "Over and Over" again, this time stopping before the vocals even came in. He sighed and set down the guitar. It was pitch black out there by now, so Arthur figured he might as well go to sleep.

When he went downstairs, Francis was lying stretched out on the bed with only boxers and a tank top on whilst he read a book. "Ah, hello. Are you ready to go to sleep?" he asked softly, setting his book to the side. "Yes, if you please," Arthur said quietly.

Francis moved over on the bed so that Arthur could join him and Arthur did so, climbing onto the bed and raising the sheets over his chest. Francis flicked the light switch off and murmured a tiny "good night" to Arthur. Arthur moved closer to Francis, burying his face in his warm, broad shoulder with a tiny hum. Francis smirked, welcoming Arthur's closeness. Both of them fell asleep quickly.

Arthur circled nervously across the floor, guitar in hand. The school principal was now introducing him, and he was right behind the curtains. Surely even the back row of the audience could hear him pacing back and forth in anxiety. He felt his phone go off and quickly checked it.

"Don't worry, mon cher, you're going to do great," it read; from Francis. He grinned to himself and slipped his phone away. He held his guitar in the correct position now as the curtains began to open.

Arthur nearly lost it for a moment; in the front row sat Alfred and Ivan, and Alfred was staring straight at Arthur. He pulled his gaze away and cleared his throat, trying to calm his racing heart. _I'm not nervous, I'm not nervous, I'm not nervous, _he told himself as he began to play.

He could feel Alfred's intense gaze on him the whole song, and Arthur knew exactly why, or hoped it was the reason; guilt. He decided to make the American feel even worse after he had finished.

As the whole school applauded him, he stood and grabbed the microphone. He cleared his throat once again. "Alfred, I hope you're happy," he snarled into the microphone before he stormed off stage. Alfred's jaw flew open and he just stared at the now-empty stage, his blue eyes sparkling with pain. "A-Alfred…" Ivan murmured, his eyes flashing at seeing the American traumatized. "I'll be right back."

Arthur walked down the hall toward his first hour, seeing as that's what hour they were in the middle of, when a loud voice growled, "_Arthur Kirkland!" _Arthur spun around, not sure what he was expecting. Ivan was walking toward him slowly. "Hi Ivan," Arthur spat, hatred filling his voice and making it quiver. Ivan punched Arthur in the gut, sending him flying into the brick wall behind him. Arthur coughed up a slight bit of blood and it trickled down his chin.

"Get the bloody hell away from me, you git…" he gasped as he staggered to his feet, his legs trembling wildly from the force of the blow. "You will not tell me what to do," Ivan said, his hand grasping Arthur's throat and starting to choke him. Arthur flailed wildly, digging his fingers into Ivan's hand in a pathetic attempt to pry his hands off his throat. The Russian's grip only tightened, and a smile broke out on his face.

"…leave me alone," Alfred's voice came from the gym, dark and angry. Ivan loosened his grip on Arthur and walked away as if nothing had happened. Arthur gasped for breath, his hands lightly brushing along his neck, sending shivers down his spine. _What a bastard! Running away so Alfred won't see him murdering his ex? _

He sighed and hurried to his first hour before Alfred could leave the gym and see him, not bothering to clean up the blood on his chin or rid of the taste of it in his mouth. He clenched and unclenched his hand as he walked.

When first hour had resumed, or more started for Arthur since he had been backstage, Arthur was starting to feel really light headed, but he brushed it off and kept trying to focus. But then an overwhelming sensation flowered in him, and he couldn't breathe. He began to panic, standing up in the middle of the Chemistry lab, his heart beating at an erratic pace. The teacher turned to ask him what was going on, but when he saw the irregular spasms of Arthur's shoulders as he tried to breathe and the panic lit in his bright green eyes, he dashed over to the Brit.

"Arthur? _Arthur! _What is going on!?" he demanded loudly. "C-can't…" he gasped, "b-b-br-breathe…" and with that the world blacked out around him. The teacher hauled Arthur onto his shoulder and speed walked toward the nurse's office.

"Call an ambulance or something," the teacher ordered when he walked in. The nurse gaped at Arthur's inert body as the teacher set him on a chair. "He said he couldn't breathe and then he passed out," he reported before he left the room.

Arthur woke up when he was being hauled onto a stretcher. He began to flail as best he could with his arms and legs strapped down to the bed-like object. "Wait!" he shrieked in panic. "S-stop! You're going to strain yourself! You could go into a coma!" a doctor warned in a sharp tone.

"I…! I need Francis!" he wailed, his breathing shallow and quick with panic. The nurse blinked. "Who is Francis? Do you mean Bonnefoy, Francis?" "Yes!" Arthur squeaked, calming down a bit. She sighed. "Pardon me, let me go fetch him." "Um, I'm sorry, but we should only let people who are family board the ambulance." "Francis _is _family to me," Arthur snarled, warning in his tone. "Oh, and how?" the paramedic demanded angrily, obviously fed up with Arthur's behavior. "He's my bloody boyfriend!"

She stared at Arthur, trying not to act surprised. "Well, then…fine," she mumbled as the nurse returned with a panicked-looking Francis. When he saw Arthur he let out a tiny yelp of surprise and ran over to Arthur, but a doctor restrained him. Arthur gave Francis a weak smile before he could feel his strength slipping out of his fingertips.

_"_Wait…his heart has stopped!" a paramedic yelled, the catalyst of the panic that dispersed among the doctors. Francis tried to shake off the doctor who was holding him and began to yell in French, tears spilling from his eyes and flowing down his cheeks. "We have to get him to the hospital. _Now!" _The doctor finally let Francis go to join Arthur in the back of the ambulance, and he did exactly that.

"Mon Dieu…Arthur, what the hell happened…?" he murmured, running a hand through the Brit's hair.

When they arrived at the hospital, the paramedics speedily got Arthur into the Emergency Room and prepared a defibrillator, jolting Arthur quickly. Francis stared at Arthur with fear, but then he could see slight movement in Arthur's chest as his heart and breathing started up.

By the time Arthur woken up, the doctors had run a few tests, concluding that it was nothing critical-they had at first suspected dyspnea-and that he could leave the hospital when he awoke before they had left the room. Francis had exhaled heavily in relief. Arthur's eyes fluttered open, his green eyes glazed with sleepiness. He let out a small groggy groan and clutched his head as a dull ache throbbed in his skull.

"Arthur, you scared the fuck out of me when the nurse called me down to accompany you," Francis breathed, tears welling in his eyes. "I thought you died when they said your heart had stopped…" Arthur blinked a few times as his headache abated slightly. "Now you know how I felt when you got shot," he replied simply, not meeting Francis' gaze as the memories from that grim night flooded through him.

"Come on, let's go home," Francis said, changing the subject. Arthur nodded and sat up. His eyebrows furrowed as a jolt of pain struck his head and he tried to ignore it as he lifted himself off the bed. His legs were shaking a lot but they didn't give way as he stood, using the bed to steady himself.

_We couldn't even think of walking home with him in this condition, _he thought, beginning to worry. But the school nurse was in the waiting room and stood when the two walked in. "Ah! There you are. Here, Arthur, you must go home for the day," she told him, scanning his trembling state with concern. "Can Francis come with me?" Arthur rasped. "We live in the same household, so he can look after me," he continued.

The nurse nodded slowly, looking at Francis. "I'll do my best to take care of him," Francis promised, rubbing the back of his neck at her stare. "You'd better," she snorted. "What, you don't believe I will?" he demanded, stepping forward slightly. "Francis, let it go!" Arthur hissed, stretching out an arm in front of him. Francis looked down, not sure why he felt so cross at her slight unfaithfulness.

"One of the doctors here will take you home, okay?" "Sure," Arthur said, nodding, "thank you."

A shrill, jaunty voice floated from the hallway. Arthur couldn't make out what the woman was saying, but…

Then, before he knew it, Elizabeta was standing in the doorway. Her jaw dropped when she saw Arthur and Francis. "You two?" she exclaimed. Arthur rubbed a hand along his forehead. "Yes, us two…" he uttered, biting his lip softly.

None of the three said another word as Elizabeta left the hospital and Francis and Arthur followed hastily. The silence followed throughout the whole drive, except for Francis directing Elizabeta to his house.

"Well, then, goodbye," Elizabeta said softly when they'd pulled into the driveway. "Bye," Arthur replied, knowing he was being immature by ignoring her.

"Now then, we're probably not going to school tomorrow either, so that you can rest and I can look after you, okay?" "No, I'll be just fine," he insisted, frowning. "B-but you might pass out again! Or whatever happened!" Francis protested softly, his eyes sparkling. Arthur glared at him. "I said I'll be fine, Francis," he said coldly.

Francis flinched at the Brit's tone and sighed. "Fine, fine. We'll go to school tomorrow. Now get some rest," he instructed. Arthur rolled his eyes but went downstairs to Francis' room and flopped onto the bed. As he got himself ready for sleep, Francis sat in the chair that was beside the bed and grabbed a book that was on the desk beside the chair.

Arthur smiled softly at Francis before he closed his eyes and gradually drifted off to sleep.

**Author's Note: Okay I seriously put Arthur's Note at first *facepalms* Anyways, sorry about the wait, took me forever to come up with a plot...so sorry this chapter kinda jumps around and is pretty weird o3o ****_I get really random a lot, especially considering I wrote this at like 2 AM last night owo_**

**I plan to get the next chapter in in the next week, because my break ends in like six days! :[ Alsooo, next chapter is the last chapter w *rolls away***


	10. Chapter 10

Francis and Arthur were standing at the bus stop, that was one thing to say.

Another thing to say was that it was their one year anniversary today.

It had been a year since Arthur performed for the school. It had been a year since Ivan beat up Arthur. It had been a year of dwindling pain and thoughts of Alfred. It had been a year of romance with Francis, to say the least. To say more, they had had small quarrels from time to time, lots of dates, and even more sex.

Arthur wiped the back of his hand along his forehead, his bangs sweeping with his hand for a moment before swinging back into place. He gave a tiny sigh of content as he watched the wind begin to stir the grass of everyone's yards and the branches of the trees. It was the perfect weather for an August morning.

As Francis and Arthur boarded the bus and made their way toward the back of the bus, Arthur felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled out his phone when he was seated and stared at the message. It took him a while to asborb the fact that it was Alfred, when he saw the American's name at the top of the screen, and when he read the text message his grip tightened mercilessly onto the phone.

_"No, I can't, I'm skipping school. Me and Ivan are going back to my place and fucking all day(;"_

"It's 'Ivan and I,' you twat!" Arthur blurted out, eyes narrowing. Then everything else on the message sank in and his hand began to shake with the phone in his grip. "Hm?" Francis hummed softly, glancing over at Arthur with curious eyes, pools of blue that shone with the reflection of the things zooming by outside the window.

Arthur bit his bottom lip but it was too late; the tears spilled from his eyes and he looked away from Francis. "A-Arthur?! What's wrong?" Francis asked in a worried and confused tone. Before he could answer, his phone went off again. He checked it. _"Oh shit, sorry Artie didn't mean to send that to you..."_

Arthur refrained from ranting off at Alfred and instead simply replied with "It's fine" and stared at the conversation with blurry vision as the tears started again. _He called me Artie, though, _he thought, but pushed that away.

Francis read the messages as best he could from the phone's angle and sighed.

Arthur knew this was going to be a long day, and so did Francis.

_"Alfred, it's time to get up," Ivan sighed, shaking Alfred's bare shoulder. Alfred let out a small groan and his eyes fluttered open. "I don't wannaa," he whined. Ivan shook his head and stretched forward, pressing his lips softly against Alfred's._

_Before he could pull back and try again to wake the American, arms wrapped firmly around his neck, pulling him onto the bed on top of Alfred. Ivan let out a muffled squeak and steadied himself as the kiss deepened and Alfred's hands trailed along Ivan's chest. Ivan let out a soft moan as Alfred nibbled gently on his lower lip and the American took advantage and moved his tongue into the new area, playfully dancing against Ivan's._

_Ivan pulled back when Alfred's grip on his neck finally loosened and gave a half-hearted violet glare at him. "This isn't the way to get what you want, Alfred," he insisted, smirking. "However, I'll let you get your way only this time," he hummed, and a split second later Alfred's phone dinged on the table beside the bed. Ivan grabbed it and handed it to Alfred, who checked it. "Hey, I was wondering if you might want to sit with Lovino and the others at lunch today?" the message read, sent from Antonio._

_He sighed in exasperation, glancing up at Ivan and accidentally switching contacts to Arthur with his index finger as he did, and then replied with "No, I can't, I'm skipping school. Me and Ivan are going back to my place and fucking all day(;" staring at the loading bar for a moment. As he moved to put away his phone he suddenly realized something and went back to his messages, seeing that he'd sent the message to Arthur instead._

_"Shit!" he uttered, quickly typing an apology and then resending the message to Antonio. He set his phone to the side._

Ivan was quick to resume their kissing, impatiently yanking Alfred's boxers, the only clothing he'd been sleeping in, down his legs and off, throwing them to the side with a soft, lustful growl. He began to softly pump his member, and moved his head forward, pressing his lips to the tip, making Alfred mewl loudly in surprise, squirming a bit.

Ivan swirled his tongue teasingly at the slit, earning a huge moan from the American. Then, he finally took the rest of his member into his mouth, bobbing his head and taking in more with every dip of his head. Alfred tangled his fingers in the Russian's silver hair, keening in bliss.

Ivan pulled away, licking his lips and then grabbed the lube that was on the table, spurting a lucrative amount onto his fingers, spreading it along three fingers and then moving his hand to Alfred's entrance and smoothly sliding a finger in. "Ah!" he yelped softly, craning his head backward and arching his back at the cold, slimy feeling.

Soon, Ivan was satisfied with the amount of stretching and climbed back on top of Alfred, his hand brushing along his skin, sending a small shiver up his back. Alfred still wasn't all that fond of bottoming, but he went along with it anyways.

Ivan pressed in without any further hesitation, and Alfred gritted his teeth slightly. Ivan waited for Alfred to adjust, murmuring quiet reassurements into his ear. Alfred still had quite a bit of trouble getting used to Ivan's size, but he was able to relax much more quickly now than the first time.

Ivan felt Alfred relaxing and started to thrust swiftly. Alfred emitted a loud groan, his forehead wrinkling. His breathing was hitched as Ivan smiled down at him, though it was a more subtle smile.

He began to push further into Alfred, causing him to keen in pleasure. "H-Hnng!" he gasped as he shut his eyes, knowing he was close. Ivan brushed against his sweet spot teasingly, causing Alfred to come at last.

"A-Arthur!" he cried out as his liquids spewed onto Ivan's stomach. The Russian halted in his thrusting, his violet glare burning into Alfred's closed eyes. "What?" he growled, holding out the word.

Alfred's eyes flew open in realization as Ivan pulled out from Alfred and kept staring at him. "I-I'm sorry, Ivan!" "Really? Are you?" he snarled, balling his hands into fists. "Y-yes...sometimes I just get caught up in the moment-" "Don't talk that shit with me, Alfred. You don't need to say anything for me to know that you obviously love Arthur more than you do me."

Alfred stiffened and felt his eyes begin to sting with oncoming tears. "Maybe I do!" he yelled, turning his nose upward. "I thought you'd be supportive that I miss Arthur-" "It's been a year, Alfred. You would be over him by now if you loved me."

Alfred shuddered and bit his lip softly. "Fine then," he said softly. "Listen, if it happens again-" "No," Alfred interrupted, looking past Ivan at the wall on the other side of the room. "We're done." Ivan stared at him and gave a small nod of dismissal. Alfred gave the Russian a final glare before he redressed himself and glanced at the clock. It was only second hour in school.

He exhaled and grabbed his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder and leaving. He'd just skip the rest of school and go back tomorrow.

The next day, Arthur arrived at school alone. Francis hadn't been on the bus. Someone else on the bus, however, had said that Francis was getting a ride with someone else, so he began to search for Francis, but he was nowhere to be found. _Maybe he's somewhere out here waiting for me,_ he thought as he pushed through the crowds of people scattered around the school grounds, his gaze darting around as he looked for the familiar exquisite blond hair of Francis.

"Hey, have you seen Francis?" Arthur asked a random group of people who were talking quietly. "Yeah, he's around the corner I think," a girl replied. Arthur nodded gratefully and speed walked, steering around the corner.

His books fell from his fingertips at what he saw, clattering onto the ground with loud thumps.

Alfred's brother and Francis were kissing in the middle of the sidewalk. They pulled apart at the sound of Arthur's books hitting the ground, and both their eyes widened when they saw Arthur standing there. "How could you?" Arthur whispered, his body trembling. "A-Arthur, mon cher, it's not what it looks like!" Francis insisted softly.

"Oh, then what is it?" Arthur asked bitterly, holding up his hand to show he wasn't really asking. "I can't believe you Francis," he uttered, scooping up his books. "A-Arthur..." "No. Don't even try making excuses, I can't trust you anymore." Before anything else could be said, Arthur spun around and stormed off. Everyone else had already been let inside to go to their classes, so he collapsed on the ground, leaning against the brick wall of the school and letting the tears spill onto his cheeks, running down to his chin and dripping onto his shirt.

He brought his knees to his chest, his arms securely fastened around them as he buried his face into the denim material of his jeans. He could feel the tears soaking his jeans now. He dug his hand into his leg, grasping a fold of his jeans tightly.

"Hey," a familiar voice murmured just loud enough to catch his attention. Arthur's head bolted upward in confusion, almost certain that he was imagining the voice. His eyes widened when he saw Alfred standing in front of him with a weak smile. "W-what the bloody hell do you want?" He asked, looking away, trying not to show how happy he was to see the American.

"What's wrong?" Alfred asked, not answering the question. His blue eyes sparkled with concern. "N-nothing! Get out of my fucking personal life!" He yelled, trying to hold back the set of tears that were rimming his panicked green eyes.

"Listen, Arthur," Alfred said, narrowing his eyes. "I'm sorry for everything that happened. I-I...I was heartbroken right at the start of our fight and then when you said it was over I wanted to kill myself." Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"And I nearly did, too. But Matthew helped me get through it and then Ivan asked me out and I thought maybe a new relationship would help me, but things only got worse. Ivan was over-protective and he ordered me around a lot. Even though he was kind and caring at times, a lot of other times I just..." he trailed off, shaking his head. "No one could ever replace you. I'm sorry I made the mistake to make you hate me."

Arthur's lip began to quiver but he tried to keep up the hard-to-get act. "No, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I ever cared!" he buried his face back into his knees and gave a choked cry, his back shaking. "Why are you sorry that you cared if I do and still do?" Alfred demanded loudly. "I can never get rid of this feeling! I've tried! Everytime I see you with that idiot Francis I feel like my heart's been ripped out of my chest!" He screamed, tears welling in his eyes.

"How the hell do you think I felt when I would see you and Ivan, huh?" Arthur snarled, looking up again. "The first time I saw you and him making out I started crying. Ask Francis." His eyelids fluttered slightly at the Frenchman's name.

"Plus, that bastard beat me up behind your back after the school assembly!" he blurted. Alfred gazed at him blankly. "H-he did?" "Yes," Arthur said, bewildered. "I thought everyone would have known about the huge scene by now, a year later pretty much. I had to go to the hospital. My heart stopped for a while. I nearly died." Alfred closed the few feet of space between him and Arthur, wrapping his arms around Arthur's waist and resting his chin on Arthur's left shoulder. "I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"So am I," Arthur said bitterly, shaking his shoulders hostilely. Alfred backed up, frowning. "So, um...what was up with the whole school assembly thing, anyways?" Alfred asked quietly. "I-I knew the song I played for a while now. It was one of the only songs that stuck with me. Francis asked me to play a song for the school so I played that one.

"It reminded me of us because we broke up and moved on but I still..." he was aware of Alfred staring at him as he finally let his feelings be admitted. "...I still loved you more than anyone else in the world," he whispered, casting his gaze downward.

Alfred leaned forward once again, pressing his lips softly to Arthur's. Arthur's eyes widened as Alfred pinned his arms on either side of Arthur on the wall behind them as he deepened the kiss. Arthur lightly pushed on Alfred's chest with his palms after a minute or so of kissing to get him to pull away. Alfred got the sign and recoiled, his chest and shoulders heaving in near sync with Arthur's as they gasped for breath.

The two simply stared at each other for a long time, the faint chirping of birds from the trees that stretched a matter of feet over the roof of the school, and the sun shining brightly. The wind slightly stirred the long branches of the trees, making them batter against each other and rustle quietly.

"...Do you want to skip school?" Alfred asked bluntly, giving a small smile. Arthur gave a low chuckle, also smirking. "I'd love to," he growled, running his hand through Alfred's messy sand-colored hair. He just barely brushed the American's strand of hair which conspicuously bounced in the air, making the boy shudder and pull back a bit, burning red at how that one line of hair made him go wild.

"Well, I've got the keys to my bro's car so let's go!" Alfred squeaked shrilly, whirling around and slowly walking to the parking lot. Arthur slowly rose to his feet, his knees croaking in pain and wobbling slightly as he tottered around, gaining his balance. He dashed after Alfred, his feet striking heavily on the tattered concrete.

Arthur still felt strongly inferior everytime he got near this car-Camaros were _really_ expensive, weren't they?

_But then again, so are Elizabeta's Porsche and Francis' Corvette,_ a small voice whispered in the back of his head. He bit his lip and blinked a few times as he shifted his way into the passenger's seat of the car, clicking his seat belt into place and leaning back in the chair with a tiny sigh of expaseration as Alfred started the car.

Then, something hit him. He flew up in his seat, sucking in a large breath. "Do you even have a liscence? Do you know how to drive this bloody thing?" He squawked. Alfred was the same age as him, and he knew nothing, well, nearly nothing, about driving.

Alfred grinned. "Relax, I got this. How hard can it be?" But that only made Arthur more nervous. He pressed a hand to the side of his head and rested his elbow on the side of the car door, closing his eyes and exhaling.

The car rocked as Alfred uncertainly switched to the "R" on the switch beside him. It began to inch backward when he pressed his foot to the gas petal. He smiled reassuringly to himself and then pressed his foot down harder, causing the car to lurch backward. Arthur's head shot up in alarm and he began to yell things that Alfred couldn't make out.

He lifted his foot slightly off and sighed. "If you think you know so much, and you're worried about me driving this damn thing, then fine! You try!" "I bloody will!" Arthur snarled, violently ripping his seat belt from its place and slamming the car door shut behind him.

Once he and the American switched places, Arthur remembered all of his studying his parents had made him do about driving when they were alive.

He could practically feel the dejection rolling off in large waves off of Alfred as he safely drove them home without a single flaw.

Once they'd set foot in the house, all of their sexual tensions ignited as Alfred aggressively tackled Arthur to the bed in his room, gnawing on Arthur's neck, earning loud moans from Arthur. He moved his lips to Arthur's and trailed his tongue on Arthur's bottom lip. Arthur parted his lips for Alfred and Alfred's tongue darted in once given the chance. He ran his tongue through the cave that was Arthur's mouth, taking note that Arthur's mouth tasted faintly like tea.

"N-nn!" Arthur breathed against Alfred's lips as he swirled his tongue teasingly against Arthur's own and then pulled back from the kiss, breaking a small line of saliva.

He practically tore the Brit's clothes off , and then just as quickly stripped himself down before reaching over to the table beside his bed for lubrication.

"I see you finally got some?" Arthur asked mockingly, sneering. He giggled a bit, and Alfred turned bright red. He decided to leave out that Ivan had made him get some. "You have no clue what it's like, bro!" "What what's like?" Arthur asked, his lips parting more as his smile widened, showing white teeth that glimmered in the dim lighting of the room.

"Buying lube and having everyone see you!" Alfred squeaked, his eyes widening. "Whatever," Arthur chuckled. "I'm fairly certain you're being melodramatic." "But I'm not!" he whined as he leaned forward after squeezing a small amount of lube onto three fingers, starting to move his fingers toward Arthur's entrance. "Ah-ah-ah!" Arthur yipped suddenly, a hand shooting down and grasping a tight hold on Alfred's rest, stopping him from proceeding.

"Whaaaat?" Alfred wailed, cocking an eyebrow and tilting his head slightly to the side. "You're going to ride me," Arthur declared, smirking impishly with narrowed eyes. Alfred blinked a few times, testing out the idea a few times in his mind. He finally gave in, giving a sigh of defeat. Arthur released his grip on Alfred's wrist.

Alfred shifted positions, knowing that Arthur was expecting him to stretch himself out rather than make him do it, and popped one finger in himself, giving a soft gasp. He pumped it quickly and made quick work of adding all three fingers, his moans growing fuller and louder with every finger added. Arthur watched with a fiery green gaze, feeling his member grow harder at the noises and the vulgar thing happening before his eyes.

When Alfred decided he was stretched enough he crawled carefully on top of Arthur and began to lower himself onto the Brit's member. He groaned as he finally guided it into himself and began to ride, going further down on Arthur with every roll of his hips. Arthur moaned softly and began to rock upward to meet every one of Alfred's agonizingly slow dips down onto his cock.

Alfred's forehead beaded with sweat as he kept bobbing his body up and down. As he began to get distracted, he felt a slightly cold hand grasp his member, which was pressing into Arthur's stomach. He inhaled sharply in surprise, a shiver running down his spine as Arthur began to pump his member. He gave the American an innocent, inquiring look, and Alfred shook his head slightly and resumed the task at hand.

Alfred felt his sweet spot get brushed up against and he shuffled his position so that he'd be able to hit it more firmly. He howled in pleasure as he dropped down repetitively onto the area. When he had finally hit it with enough force he came with a groan.

He got off of Arthur and collapsed on the bed beside him, his chest heaving. Arthur smiled and gazed at the ceiling with thoughtful green eyes. "Arthur...?" Alfred asked in a childish, high pitched tone. "Yes?" Arthur asked. "Promise me we'll be together forever," he whispered. Arthur shifted to look at the American. His blue eyes were shining with fear and worry. "O-of course!" he squeaked, "no matter if we fight, we'll always be together," he promised softly, offering a bright smile.

"Good," Alfred replied with a smile. He wrapped his arms around Arthur's naked, warm body. "Together forever," he whispered. Arthur sighed. "Together forever," he replied, rolling his eyes at how trite that sounded.

**Author's Note: Yaayyy! ouo Finally got this doneee. Anyways, going on with how I normally do things. I'm sorry if this chapter has any major typos, my new laptop doesn't have Microsoft Word so I'm just enduring with Notepad. Also, I know nothing about driving so sorry about that scene and if I got the little info I put wrong x3 **

**In other words, hope you enjoyed this fanfiction! It was fun. I'm a little sad to see it ending, to be honest, but I know there's more stories to come ^w^ Thank you all for reviewing/following/favorite-ing this fanfiction! It means a lot and I'm glad to know you enjoyed this. Goodbye everyone~! '3**


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